


From The Sea

by WantsUnicorns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Angst, M/M, Mates, Soul Bond, Substance Abuse, Veela
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2012-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 10:15:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 78,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WantsUnicorns/pseuds/WantsUnicorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scorpius Malfoy has never been one to leave stones unturned in his quest for adventure, and he’s not about to start when it comes to finding a cure for his father’s mysterious illness. Albus Potter has his work cut out for him, making sure Scorpius doesn’t get himself killed or drive Albus around the bend. – A tale of adventure and civilisations long forgotten, where not everything is quite as it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From The Sea

**Author's Note:**

> This is my completely self-indulgent adventure fic. I have a mad love for steam punk for weird gadjets, for adventures, treasure and old civilisations. I finally got a chance to put all my loves into words and for what it's worth, I had a great time writing it.  
> Important note to all of those who clicked this because of the H/D, it's completely in the background. This is a next gen fic more than anything and focuses on Albus Severus and Scorpius who are both in their late twenties or early thirties. I've been asked about a companion H/D piece and once I've got less on my plate I might do that, but for now this is "all" there is to this story.  
> All the art was done by the fantastic CrazyParaKiss over on LJ.  
> Since there have been questions about this, anything in the past from Scorpius' POV leads up to the first Albus scene. I hope this helps it make more sense.  
> Inspired by Stargate SG-1 and Iron Man. Credit to some of my lore goes to dysonrules thanks for letting me play in your sandbox darling! Thank you to my beta kinky_kneazle who has been incredibly supportive and patient with me and without her this endeavour would never have been finished, also, to be quite honest, it wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun as it has been. Thank you, dear! ♥  
> Originally posted to hp_nextgen_fest on LJ  
> Special thanks go to: KK, Kiss, Curi, Ann, Annie, Rina, Kitty, Maggie & LH

~Prologue~

The Library is shrouded in darkness and the air is dry and old. The walls are lined with shelves, their highest levels cast into impenetrable gloom. Dust covers the lushly carpeted floor, undisturbed for longer than anyone can remember. Along the corridor lie scattered treasures among the books. They are relics of forgotten adventures and far off destinations – twisted roots and shimmering feathers alternating with pressed and framed flowers and the odd piece of bone or shell. 

Maps and globes from every century cover what little space there is. Some maps have little notes attached to them by pins. The notes comment on climate, on roads and accessibility. A lot of them are written in the same hand; not all of them are in English. The older maps even come with Latin or Greek annotations, which would baffle most who might venture into the library. Visitors are few and far between and none travel far enough into the library to even reach the maps. Most recent volumes are right beside the entrance; the older, dustier, tomes are all but forgotten.

A suit of tribal armour stands by a window with grime-covered glass; its spear is still sharp. Nobody remembers where it came from—the white piece of cardboard that comes with it is so faded that it has become illegible. Beside the empty suit stands a stuffed sabre toothed tiger and how that came to be part of this collection is anyone’s guess.

Armchairs and desks had to make room for more shelves and relics of times long past. This far back in the library all the sounds are muffled. In here knowledge is a force to be reckoned with. It cannot be merely absorbed, but is absorbing, changing the reader, assimilating them making them a link in a larger chain.

Every square inch of the room is stuffed with sheets upon sheets of history, with the beauty of words and numbers. Some are bound and hidden between strong covers of leather. Some are even bound in human skin. Many of the tomes are so old, their pages have become brittle and a single touch would turn them into dust. 

The oldest among them are scrolls, written in languages that haven’t been uttered in thousands of years. They tell of shapes and numbers, of constellations and philosophy. Of great battles lost and won and of societies’ rise and fall. At the end of the day, they are about people, some of them human beings, others, not so much.

If knowledge had a conscience or a sense of premonition, one of the scrolls would be fidgeting. It would covet the light at the end of the wand, the quiet but determined steps leading through the dusty corridors, stirring up air and memories of times long past. The scroll would rejoice at the feeling of the sure grip of a perfectly manicured hand around it, as it was carefully lifted from its spot on the shelves. It would quiver as it was carried over to one of the few reading desks, spread out and its corners weighed down by other ancient but less important tomes. And here is what it would say:

>   
>  _In the beginning there were the sun, and the stars. There were the skies above and the earth below. The days were warm and water covered most of the surface. Life thrived and evolved and everywhere new and exciting species took their first steps. Some of them perished and others flourished as is nature’s course. One day, a large rock fell from the heavens above and almost everything died: the animals, the plants, even the insects. Thousands of years of darkness, cold and ice followed and life wept as she saw her creation destroyed._  
> 

>   
>  _Eventually the clouds lifted and the earth settled again. Life took more care this time and the new creatures that covered the land were stronger. More robust. They learnt to build shelters and discovered the power of fire to keep themselves warm in the cold winter months._  
> 

>   
>  _Their population grew faster than the earth could provide for. Life did not work that way and sent a terrible plague to ravage their people. They built ships and rafts to escape, but the crew were already suffering from the sickness. Their transport was left adrift on the wide open seas while the passengers wasted away. Only three boats reached a small island, where they decided to outwait the pandemic._  
> 

>   
>  _Seasons came and went and the survivors made the island their home. They hadn’t heard anything from the people on the mainland and they thought they were the only ones left. Their island was fertile and nature was generous with fowl, deer and fish._  
> 

>   
>  _Their civilisation grew and soon they built a city unlike any that had ever been built before. It became their centre of learning, of government, of everything. Their lives revolved around the city. Over thousands of years, their understanding of the world around them, and of what would much later be called “magic”, grew to heights never again achieved. They noted down what they learnt about the world, and for many centuries their library grew; almost nothing was left unexplained._  
> 

>   
>  _The first signs of unrest came in the form of tremors from the earth. Their intensity grew in violence over time. A third of the island fell victim to the raging seas and the island was too small to sustain its still-growing population. The earth shook with ever increasing frequency and more and more of the island vanished into the waves. The Veela had no choice but to begin the search for a new home yet again._  
> 

>   
>  _The island was rich in food and water, precious stone and metals, but wood had become rare over time. There wasn’t enough to build ships to take all of the population to the shore. Their brightest and most creative sat down together and before long they had built wings and flying machines._  
> 

>   
>  _They took to the skies in their search, growing ever bolder as the search dragged on. Eventually they found land, where they began to build ships. It wasn’t long before the first Veela decided to settle on the mainland for good. Not everyone thought this prudent and some even claimed that the island was sinking into the ocean because of the people who wanted to leave. In the end only the most conservative of their people stayed behind on the island._  
> 

>   
>  _After months of rebuilding their civilisation and exploring the surrounding countryside the Veela discovered that they shared the land they had found with others. The Veela welcomed the strangers into their civilisation, sharing knowledge and wisdom, furthering the young culture’s development. It wasn’t long before some of them chose to bind themselves to these humans in kinship._  
> 

>   
>  _Their readiness to share what they had learned created discord between the mainland-dwellers and the ones who chose to stay behind. The Veela who chose to take human mates were considered traitors to their culture, and their offspring, abominations._  
> 

>   
>  _Contact broke off when the island dwellers captured the vessels that were used to carry news between the island and the mainland. At first the mainland dwelling members of the community attempted to reconcile. They flew over to the island with their mechanical wings. They talked of peace and the furthering of life. Not all of them made it back and the people on the continents decided to stop sending emissaries._  
> 

>   
>  _The more conservative elements on the island seized power. Shortly after, war broke out._  
> 

>   
>  _The first wave of attacks showed that the people on the continents were not well- prepared and their weapons were inferior. With no access to the library and most of their scientists trapped on the island their numbers quickly began to dwindle. They fell one by one, unwilling to sacrifice their human mates in the struggle._  
> 

>   
>  _They were on the brink of defeat, when the humans convinced their allies to let them fight. The Veela travelled far and wide. They spread their knowledge and advanced civilisation all over the world. They built barracks and training facilities, as well as strongholds and weapons stashes. Only those of mixed Veela and human descent would be able to gain access._  
> 

>   
>  _The largest Veela cities on the continents were abandoned and moved to places that were more easily defended. Their centre of learning and research was hidden high up in the mountains, in an area that would later be called the Himalayas._  
> 

>   
>  _Veela scientists worked tirelessly to give their people an advantage over the island dwellers. All the while the exposure to the magical hotspots where the Veela had chosen to make their new, defendable homes accelerated their own evolution. They had always been blessed with long life and intelligence, but now strength and the ability to communicate without words were added to their talents. Some of those could be passed down through the generations, but others seemed to be talents only pureblood Veela could develop._  
> 

>   
>  _The war between the two factions went on for decades. The islanders were sending more and more weapons of destruction and the mainland-dwellers recruited more and more of their human companions, choosing more mates among them. Neither of the sides seemed to be able to win, but neither was willing to surrender._  
> 

>   
>  _Through the generations human and Veela offspring possessed many advantages over normal humans. However unforeseen and dangerous complications emerged over time. Both the healing touch and shared use of their combined magical force and life energy could quickly become the bonded pair’s peril, if both of them got injured or one of them took enough of their life or magical force to incapacitate the other._  
> 

>   
>  _Their scientists eventually came up with a way to implant their offspring with those parts of their knowledge and talents that hadn’t been passed on before. The means to this were installed in the facilities they had built. The process involved a merging of minds and required both mates to go through it simultaneously. Should the merging succeed they would henceforth be able to communicate telepathically._  
> 

>   
>  _Shortly after going through this, there would be a period of change. The knowledge had to take hold and the recipient would lose some of his humanity. He or she didn’t have any control over their form, and would be driven by their most basic urges. Unmated soldiers sought out their intended and during those times a merging was usually initiated and in many cases further offspring were conceived._  
> 

>   
>  _The soldiers embraced their gifts and turned the tide of the war. The islanders were beaten back at every battle and finally the mainland-dwellers had no choice but to take the fight to them._  
> 

>   
>  _They used their power and wisdom to confine their enemy to the island, never to step foot off the land again. All but a few were captured and defeated in one final battle._  
> 

>   
>  _Peace reigned in all the lands and civilisation grew and prospered._  
> 

>   
>  _***_  
> 

>   
>  _One night, the sea rose up and swallowed what was left of the island. The strong enchantment placed on the island’s very foundation kept the people trapped and they all perished._  
> 

>   
>  _When the mainland-dwellers realised what they had done, they retreated from their human consorts. They hid away in caves and in far-off places, fading into nothingness through their grief._  
> 

>   
>  _Over time, the memory of them became distorted. They were called the culture bringers and in civilisations all over the world were displayed in all shapes and sizes. The only thing they had in common were the wings that carried them._  
> 

>   
>  _Humans called them Gods, Valkyrie and even Angels. Their origin is now shrouded in the dark mysteries of time._  
> 

The heavy tomes are slowly lifted from the corner of the scroll and it immediately returns to the shape it has retained over the last centuries. The man is quiet and thoughtful. Silence stretches around him. He found out what he came here to, but he doesn’t like what it implies. The scroll is carried back to its resting place, the soft hand that took it rests on it for a short, pensive moment.

“Well, fuck!”

The steps slowly retreat, silence falls in the library and knowledge returns to waiting until it is needed again.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

**Albus Severus Potter - Present Day**

He sits slumped over in a chair that was never created for comfort; rather it was designed to conform to a ridiculous expectation of practicality, stackability, or worst of all - interior decoration. The chair is uncomfortable to sit on, because of how it either sucks up to one’s bottom to never let go or – in a fit of unexpected misplaced generosity – suddenly turns smooth, releasing its grip and letting its occupant slide to the floor in a graceless arch. It is the kind of chair not made to be sat on, slept on, or even stood on in terror while asking one’s significant other to kill the mouse, spider, or whatever else the Kneazle has dragged in and then got bored of eating, thus creating a miniature resurrection scene on the living room floor. In the end it is not a design flaw that makes it unusable, it is simply bloody uncomfortable because of where it stands. 

There is never just one of these chairs in rooms like these, there are many. Only people who spend time in these kinds of rooms know how many there are. They have spent eternities in there, counting the chairs and flipping through the magazines, which are usually either very current or so out of date that it is impossible to remember who the people being gossiped about even are. They have put them down again, because embarrassing pictures of celebrities can only do so much to distract from the overpowering sense of worry that pervades these rooms like a nasty smell. 

Every one of these rooms has some ridiculously jolly painting on the wall that is supposed to cheer their occupants up. The walls themselves are usually painted in colours interior decorators will swear on their mother’s grave to be calming and which every single person looking at will perceive as disquieting and depressing. There is also the ever present corner for children, which looks as if it hasn’t been played in since wooden toys and dolls who cried “Mama” when you pulled the string at their backs were the height of fashion. A sad plant sits in the corner; it hasn't seen actual daylight since its days in the greenhouse with many of its kind, all hoping to end up in someone’s living room or, even better, in a water feature in the entrance hall of some major cooperation with their very own bi-weekly care-taker. 

The plant in this room is just watered often enough to constantly be on the brink of death and if plants could commit suicide, this one would have needed to be replaced a long time ago. Albus ponders all this before he slides back up in his chair, as the constant back and forth of “sticky – slippery” reaches one of its extremes again. He is the only person in this room, which in itself is odd, considering what time of day it is and where he is. For the last half hour he has tried to figure out whether the weird shape on the modern painting on the wall in front of him is supposed to be a penguin playing Lacrosse or a giraffe with altogether too many limbs. 

Albus hates it all with a passion. He hates the sickly yellow walls, hates the outdated magazines and the sad excuses for chairs. There are twenty-five in this room and he despises every single one of them equally. He hates this room and what it means. Hates everything to do with it. Hates waiting and not knowing. Hates the helplessness of it all. But most of all, he hates one Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy.

Uncertainty is Albus’ very special hell. It worries him, because it is this big terrifying uncontrollable thing he cannot quantify. In every day matters, Albus would sit down and research, plan and plot and come up with a solution to whatever tortured him with uncertainty, but in this case it is out of his hands entirely. It is out of anyone’s hands as far as he can tell. The Healers have done all they can, or so they said; the rest is up to their patient.

The lack of natural light makes it hard to tell how much time has passed. They had taken his wand when he rushed Scorpius in hours earlier and he doesn’t have a watch; despite what that little clockwork contraption around his wrist might suggest, it doesn’t tell the time. It is what brought him to Central America in the first place. Scorpius had been following up one of the leads Albus had uncovered when searching for the cause of Draco Malfoy’s sudden illness, when suddenly the smooth compass-like disk on his wrist had started spinning and changed colour to a dangerous dark red. Albus had Apparated to Scorpius’ last known coordinates, which were just outside a large area that was so contaminated by wild magic that _Apparition_ was not only dangerous but almost impossible. His heart had hammered away at a staccato beat when finally, after a week of fruitless searching and too many poisonous creatures he had found Scorpius, his lifeless form washed up on a river bank, surrounded by debris.

At first Albus had been convinced that Scorpius wasn’t even alive anymore, despite what his wristband had told him. He had screamed in anguish and thrown himself onto Scorpius’ still body, for once dropping the mask of calm and collected Albus Severus Potter, head of Malfoy Industries’ medical research team, that he wore for all the world to see. He had screamed out his sorrow over the loss of his best friend and colleague. In his desperate attempt to hold Scorpius closer, rocking him back and forth as if that would return him back to the living, his hand had skittered over Scorpius’ neck and discovered a weak and erratic pulse. Albus had done the unthinkable: he had thrown caution to the wind and without a second thought Apparated them away.

It is a miracle that he didn’t splinch them or do any more damage than was already done. When he had carried the unconscious Scorpius into St Mungo’s Accident & Emergency, his suit in tatters and shouting for help, people had come rushing up to them and taken Scorpius away. That had been several hours ago, or maybe days, Albus doesn’t know. Several times someone has come in and talked to him; he has nodded and smiled, or forced his face into expressing the appropriate emotions at whatever news or lack thereof he has been offered. Twice there had been coffee, or whatever St Mungo’s chose to call such. Albus had taken one sip and then hidden the offending caffeinated beverage under his seat, desperately wishing he was anywhere but here. Preferably at home with Scorpius, the two of them bickering over whose turn it was to open the door and accept the prepaid take-away that was being delivered at that moment.

Albus feels forlorn without Scorpius. It doesn’t even seem to matter that he is a bit of a twat most of the time. They had been acquainted in school, but not friends; you weren’t friends with Scorpius Malfoy, nobody truly was. Scorpius might have been the person you desperately wanted to be, he might have been the person you secretly despised for how easy things came to him, but he wasn’t your friend. Scorpius didn’t have minions either, he had followers, people who were taken in by his forward personality and his tendency to follow only the rules he found either hilarious or necessary enough to get his way. 

Albus had found himself among Scorpius’ acquaintances – never a follower – quite by accident, when he had been persuaded to tutor Scorpius in potions where, unlike his father, he had been completely hopeless.

In the end Scorpius had somehow bullied his way into Albus’ life, taking his presence for granted and never once aware that Albus didn’t actually want him to _be_ a part of his life. At least not at first. The first lesson Albus had learnt where Scorpius was concerned was “resistance is useless”. Scorpius’ father had recruited Albus right out of school for his Potions and Medical Research division; the pay was good and the labs were first class. What had made his own scientist’s heart beat immediately faster was that his own lab was so well equipped that the tools he had had to work with at Hogwarts paled in comparison. Slowly but surely, Albus had risen through the ranks until he headed his very own Research department He was forced to work closely with Scorpius, for while the man was utterly useless with potions and research itself, he was the proverbial wunderkind when it came to charms and gadgets. Their successful partnership in combining potions and enchanted objects, as well as healing and detection spells, had turned Malfoy Industries into the wizarding world’s largest supplier of magical medical instruments. Most of their work was confined to Malfoy Laboratories and Scorpius’ workshop at the Manor and more often than not they both spent the night at work. Going home would have taken up too much time, which is why Scorpius didn’t have too much trouble bullying Albus into moving in with him. They had one enlarged wing of the Manor entirely to themselves, containing two separate flats but a huge shared kitchen, living and dining room. 

Albus doesn’t remember how it happened, but little by little he had begun to manage Scorpius’ life on top of his own not inconsiderable work load. He took care that Scorpius took his lunch break, made sure he showered and wore clean clothes. Albus also managed Scorpius’ diary. He doesn’t regret becoming this person; it means he gets to spend more time with Scorpius, because despite what everyone else might think about their relationship, they aren’t actually together. Scorpius is completely and utterly oblivious to the fact that his mere presence sometimes overrides Albus’ entire higher brain functions, leaving only feelings of desire, of the “must have you, right now!” variety. Even now, sitting in this despicable excuse for a chair, Albus is overwhelmed by worry over the possibility of losing his not-lover. Losing him would mean that little spark of hope he has been nurturing despite all the evidence to the contrary, would die.

Both of them tend to bring people home, or so he tells Scorpius. It is not exactly true. Scorpius might bring home people and sleep with them. Albus, on the other hand, just pretends. There is only one person he wants and since Albus can’t have him, he might as well stay celibate. After all, Scorpius always comes back to him, back to their shared flats, and none of the people he brings home ever stay a second night.

Albus is brought out of his reverie first by the realisation that both his arse cheeks have fallen asleep _again_ , as well as by the gadget fixed to his arm chiming softly and changing from a dull and pulsing red, first to a yellow and then into a bright dark green, before going out completely. Scorpius is awake!

Albus has already shrugged into his destroyed suit jacket and is straightening it haphazardly, when the metal-framed frosted glass door to the waiting room finally opens.

“He’s asking to see you, Mr. Potter.”

Albus nods in acknowledgement and follows the woman along the corridor. Her hair is done up in a tight bun at the back of her head and everything about her speaks of quiet efficiency; maybe he was a bit premature in his dismissal of all of St Mungo’s staff as incompetent. The corridor stretching in front of them seems endless, its walls narrow and white and devoid of any decoration, the only indicator that they actually move forward are the small labels beside each door. The numbers they list grow ever larger and the signs hanging beneath constantly change. When they reach Scorpius’ room Albus’ heart is beating fast. He has to hide his hands in his pockets, clenching them into fists and pressing them against his thighs to cover up just how much they are trembling. He doesn’t know what is awaiting him on the other side of that door and that is his very special brand of hell right there.

The nurse holds open the door and beckons him into the room, reminding him to be quiet and not to excite her patient. Albus steps into the room as reluctant as if he was headed to his own execution and doesn’t even turn around when she leaves, closing the door behind her and locking him in with what he both dreads and covets the most.

The blinds are closed, leaving the room in semi-darkness, only small rays of light lighting tiny paths from the window to Scorpius’ sickbed, drawing Albus gaze to follow them. The only other source of illumination is the small round spheres, which hover over Scorpius’ heart, lung and head. They are monitoring spells which they helped invent. The irony of finding one of them at their receiving end is not lost on Albus. He walks over to the bed with reluctant steps, not sure whether he really wants to see Scorpius in this condition.

When he reaches Scorpius’ bedside, Albus looks at his face. Scorpius’ skin is paler in the dim light, than it should be. His lips are in stark contrast and slightly open. They are perfect for a kiss, something Albus has denied himself for a very long time. He leans closer without meaning to, before stopping himself short. That he even allowed himself these thoughts shows just how much of an impact Scorpius’ near death experience has had on him. Albus straightens up and purposefully walks to the chair beside Scorpius’ bed, sitting down and watching him. His eyes are still closed, but Albus is convinced that he is awake. They don’t acknowledge each other’s presence for a long time.

“You’re a complete and utter prat, Scorpius Malfoy. Do you know that?” Albus says, his voice quiet and stern. Albus insults Scorpius like he does everything - with precision. Scorpius doesn’t move a muscle, his rigid form telling Albus all he needs to know: Scorpius is awake and listening.

“You think the entire world revolves around you, don’t you? You never think twice about taking risks and how that might influence other people. I don’t even think there’s another person on this whole fucking planet that’s as selfish and self-centred as you are! And you’re stupid, so fucking stupid and reckless. Why didn’t you carry your locator beacon like you’d promised?” Albus’ voice is rising in volume and he doesn’t even care that it might call back the nurse at any moment.

“A-Albus…” Scorpius voice sounds raw and strange, as he tries to speak.

Albus just glares at him from his seat by the bed. He is too angry at Scorpius to care that he is having trouble opening his eyelids, that he would probably love a sip of water. The glass is right there on the nightstand beside the bed, but Albus doesn’t move a muscle. Any other day, in any other situation, he would be by Scorpius’ side, holding the glass and helping him take a sip, before stroking his hair back fondly and making sure he was alright, but in this moment, he can’t. Serves Scorpius right, he thinks, let him suffer, like he has made me suffer. Scorpius repeats his name, blinking his eyelids and trying to figure out where in the room he is, his face scrunched up in confusion, but Albus stays quiet a little longer.

“You’re such an arsehole!” he finally shouts, throwing himself at the bed.

“Excuse me?” Scorpius croaks, still eloquent even in this state.

Albus is grabbing Scorpius’ shoulders so tightly it must hurt, but right now he couldn’t care less.

“You heard me! You are such a fucking piece of shit, wanker! What were you thinking? How is going into the jungle and straying from the path without a guide or protection a good idea? You didn’t tell anyone where you were going and it took me days to track you down.” Albus takes a breath to calm himself and is less than successful. “Are you aware that I almost didn’t find you in time, you selfish prick?”

“Albus…” Scorpius swallows and then continues, “can we… can we please not do this right now?”

He is probably expecting Albus to back down, but Albus is relentless. He has been worried sick for days, he had to endure the flora and fauna of the rain forest – well, the flora was quite nice, the fauna was another matter – and then spent the last however many hours fearing the worst. Scorpius doesn’t deserve a moment of peace for putting him through this.

“No! We’re talking about this right now! This is the last time, Scorpius, I swear the very fucking last time, that I’m going to come out and save your sorry arse! It’s over, we’re over! I won’t do this anymore!” Albus is shaking with anger now.

“W-what’re you even talking about, Albus? You swear like a bloody fishwife.” Confusion is evident in Scorpius’ voice and Albus isn’t really sure anymore. What he wants to say is that Scorpius almost broke his heart by disappearing like that and that he had bloody well better be careful with it, since wherever he went so did Albus’ heart, but right now might not be the right time for that. There probably never would be a right time for it. 

“I’m talking about the fact, that you’re a fucking wanker for scaring the shit out of me like you did!”

“I…” Scorpius has to clear his throat before attempting to speak again and it turns into a coughing fit before he is able to continue and Albus feels a bit guilty for still not offering the glass of water to him. “I’m sorry, Al!”

Scorpius doesn’t do apologies and still Albus is not placated that easily. But he can’t bear seeing Scorpius in pain or discomfort at the best of times, so he leans forward and reaches for the glass, bringing it and a piece of tissue to Scorpius’ mouth and helps him take a few short and slow sips from the cool liquid, which must feel like balm running down Scorpius’ aching throat. Just before Albus puts the glass back and dries Scorpius’ chapped lips he is startled by the intense blue colour of them, not the sickly purplish blue of hypothermia, but the radiant blue of the Mediterranean or a clear sky. It must have been a trick of light, because when he removes the tissue and leans closer to investigate, Scorpius’ lips look just like they should.

“Alright. But you're still a fucking tosser!” Albus says matter-of-factly.

“Language!” Scorpius scolds, smiling slightly.

“You’re not my mother!” Albus grins now and it is contagious. Scorpius smirks up at him and soon they are both laughing out loud until Scorpius’ laugh turns into a painful coughing fit. Albus helps him drink a few more sips before putting the water away again.

“Can we go home soon?” Scorpius asks, sounding small and vulnerable all of a sudden.

“I asked. They said they had to keep you under constant observation for at least a week.”

“I want to go home, Al.”

“I’m sorry, that’s not an option. Doctor’s orders.”

“Doctors…” Scorpius spits the word out like it left a bad taste on his tongue and as if it actually meant “imbeciles” and not “healers”.

“Really, Scorpius, you should rest and that’s my professional opinion,” Albus says with a smile in his voice. It is only a gentle rebuke at what is close enough to Albus’ own profession’s insulted honour.

After a long pause, Scorpius concedes defeat and nods.

“I’ll be here, if you need me.”

“You look like shit, Al. You should go home and change.”

“Have you looked in the mirror lately? I’m definitely not the one who looks like shit, Scorpius.”

“Well, at least I don’t smell like they’ve converted the waiting room into a cheetah enclosure.” Scorpius laughs at Albus’ indignant expression.

“See if I take you to the hospital ever again, fucking tosser. I was definitely right about calling you that!” Albus mock sulks for about a minute before breaking out into a grin. The awkward tension completely evaporates and everything seems to be alright again.

Scorpius only smiles. He knows Albus too well. Albus will probably send an owl to have someone bring a change of clothes over to the hospital before getting his wand back from the front desk and then demanding to use the staff shower and changing rooms, but he won’t go home.

***

It’s over a week later when Albus is finally allowed to take Scorpius home. _No physical exertion, no caffeine, no alcohol and cigarettes, no sex and plenty of rest_ as well as a bag of colourful potions are among the pieces of advice and things they take home with them. Scorpius is still fragile and weak. So unlike the normally overconfident version of himself that is constantly looking for a place to stand to use the already created lever to move the entire planet around with.

Seeing him like this scares Albus. They still haven’t returned to how they were before; their conversation has become quieter and more serious and even their bickering isn’t as zesty as it used to be.

Albus has one arm slung around Scorpius’ waist, holding him close as he helps him step into their part of the large Manor house. Scorpius still cannot walk properly by himself and Albus has to half drag and half carry him to their huge sofa. He carefully lowers him to the soft fabric of the cushions, where Scorpius only closes his eyes and inhales deeply several times. There are dark shadows beneath his eyes and it is obvious that even the short trip from the hospital has taken most of his energy. Despite Scorpius’ incessant nagging, Albus is starting to worry that bringing him home had not been a good idea. 

It is too late now, either way; they are here and there is nothing to be done about that. Scorpius lets himself fall to his side and Albus helps him to move along the sofa until he is fully stretched out. Albus gets up and fetches a blanket from the foot of the sofa, carefully draping it over Scorpius and tucking him in. When he rises to leave, Scorpius’ hand shoots out and holds him back by his arm. When he speaks his voice is still raw.

“Stay with me. Please.”

Albus merely nods and sits down beside Scorpius, much like he spent most of his time on Scorpius’ hospital bed. This time, however, Scorpius pulls him closer and only stops pulling and pushing when Albus is stretched out beside him, lying on top of the blanket and facing Scorpius. They fall asleep like that, not touching, their arms pressed to their chests. It is awkward as fuck, Albus thinks, but there is nowhere else he would rather be.

***

The room has fallen into twilight when Albus next wakes. Scorpius is breathing steadily. The way he has moved closer to him in his sleep, hiding his face in Albus’ chest, makes him realise that Scorpius is not awake. Albus doesn’t dare move in case he wakes him. Not that waking him would be a bad thing per se, but then they would have to talk and Albus doesn’t know what to say. He knows what he wants to say and what he needs to say. There are two pieces of information constantly at war inside his mind ever since he received the second bit that is essential to Scorpius’ father’s survival but he can’t decide which of the two he should share. 

What he longs to tell Scorpius is that he wants him. Wants to be with him. That with every fibre of his being he wants to be more than friends. What he needs to tell him is that in looking through the Malfoy family blood records, which had finally been delivered by the family lawyer shortly after Scorpius had set out for Central America, he has found a probable cause for Mr. Malfoy’s illness and that there was only one solution to it. The revelation of what caused the illness in the first place is something Albus knows Scorpius will find hard to swallow.

Lost in his dilemma, Albus eventually drifts back off to sleep. He wakes in complete darkness and for a moment he doesn’t know where he is. Albus concentrates on what his senses tell him, but it isn’t much. The room is covered in darkness like a shroud. The lack of light isn’t welcoming or protective; it feels cold and wrong and for a moment Albus worries that he might be dead, or worse, that the man beside him has died while Albus has been sleeping. The feeling of warm puffs of breath on his lips reassures him that Scorpius is alright. In fact, he seems to be more than alright, when one takes into account his arms which are currently curled around Albus’ torso holding him close and his hands which are drawing slow and soothing circles all over his back.

Albus stares into the darkness in front of him, trying to make out Scorpius’ face, but all he can see is the reflection of a stray ray of moonlight in Scorpius’ eyes. When his body catches up with what Scorpius is doing and how close he is his heart speeds up.

“W-what are you doing?” Albus forces out, sounding desperate and breathless while inside his wide-awake and terrified brain part of him tries to use all of his non-existent telepathic powers to convince Scorpius to close the distance between their lips.

“Shhhh,” Scorpius chides and then he does the unthinkable. He leans forward and presses his lips gently against Albus’. Just once and too quickly, as if scared of rejection. Albus is too startled to react but must have made a sound of distress when Scorpius pulled away, because before he knows what is happening, he can hear Scorpius’ warm chuckle and Scorpius’ lips are back, pressed more firmly and surely against his own.

Albus opens easily under the onslaught of Scorpius’ tongue; he twines his fingers into Scorpius’ silky soft hair and lets him do as he pleases. The kisses are unhurried and not a means to an end and Albus loves every single one of them. He doesn’t quite know whether he is dreaming or awake, but if finding out the answer to that question means he has to stop kissing Scorpius it is beyond Albus’ abilities. They both take their time to explore each other’s flavour and if Scorpius isn’t the best thing Albus has ever tasted he doesn’t know what is.

Eventually Scorpius does break the kiss, he pulls Albus close and peppers a series of tender kisses all over his face, before pulling him to his chest and pressing one last kiss to the crown of his head. Albus can’t remember ever having felt this sheltered and whole. He revels in Scorpius’ warmth and breathes in his distinct scent, letting himself be lulled back into sleep by the steady beating of Scorpius’ heart, cocooned and protected in the warm circle of his arms.

***

Albus shivers and blinks into the early morning light. The day is cold and too bright and the events from the night before seem like nothing but a hazy dream. Sometime in the night he must have turned over on the blanket, because instead of facing towards Scorpius like he had when they had fallen asleep, he is facing away from him, held close by one of Scorpius’ arms slung possessively around his waist. Albus is cold, but he can’t make himself get up and do anything about it; he is far too comfortable in Scorpius’ embrace to move. Behind him, Scorpius mumbles something and then pulls him closer yet, nuzzling the back of his neck and pressing his groin against Albus’ arse. Albus can feel his entire face heat up as his body reacts in the most inappropriate manner and suddenly it is all too much. What if Scorpius only kissed him because of the potions he was taking? What if he doesn’t actually want him? What if he had thought Albus was someone else?

Albus can feel himself go rigid as his worst fears chase each other around his mind. How could he have been so stupid and given in to Scorpius last night? Not once has Scorpius given any indication that Albus’ affections might be returned. Why should now be different? Nothing has changed between them and – _oh God_ – he still hasn’t told Scorpius about the test results.

Careful not to wake him, Albus frees himself from Scorpius’ embrace and slowly slides off the sofa. He makes his way across their large living room on tiptoes and sneaks up the stairs connecting his flat to Scorpius’. Unlike his usual fastidious self, Albus takes his clothes off one by one as he walks towards his ensuite. The last thing he takes off is his leather wrist band. A cheerful sound comes from the disk, in stark contrast to Albus’ mood. One chime indicating that everything is alright in the world, when so clearly it is not. 

The first drops of scorching hot water on Albus’ skin make him shake. The water is too hot to be comfortable, but he doesn’t step away, needs its cleansing powers more than anything. Last night was the biggest mistake of his entire life. 

Albus decides the best course of action is to pretend it never happened. He silently mourns the loss of his one and only chance with the man he cannot help but love, hasn’t been able to not love for a very long time. The spray kindly carries away the evidence, salty tears mixing with water but never losing their significance in the greater scheme. When Albus eventually steps out of the shower and meticulously dries himself off, he stares into the mirror, searching for any hint of that bitter turmoil inside, but there is nothing.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

**Scorpius Malfoy - Over a Year ago**

The conference room appeared busy, even though there were very few people actually present. Paper was being moved around and stacked and shoved into folders which where then stuffed into briefcases. The air was filled with a sense of accomplishment and self-satisfaction such that would imply the signing of important documents. The atmosphere would be impossible to miss for anyone entering the room. Everyone pushing paper had the self-important look on their face that came with the territory, in this case the signing of a contract between Malfoy Industries and the Ministry of Magic. 

Scorpius thought it was all rather ridiculous, especially considering that the contract mostly referred to improved office supplies and only a minor part of it had concerned the shipment of the improved Auror body armour that he himself had helped invent. He sighed inwardly; expectations had to be met, which is why the contract had been signed at the Ministry itself. 

Scorpius’ father had had one of those special moments that morning, where he decided his son must learn to run the company in case of his absence or – Merlin forbid – his early death. That was how Scorpius found himself in this room, shuffling paper with the best of them and feeling like he was cleaning up after an incontinent toddler. Why did people who had the power to make things happen by writing their name on a piece of paper always think the work ended there? Well, theirs most certainly did, however everyone else’s work was just starting.

Never one to enjoy suffering by himself, Scorpius had brought Albus along – colleague, flatmate, and best friend extraordinaire. There were two reasons to have Albus there. Number one: Albus actually knew what he was doing and, unlike Scorpius, didn’t have to fake interest in the proceedings. Number two: Albus had a spectacular head cold and hadn’t left the flat in days, and Scorpius knew the resulting constant sniffling would drive his father up the wall. Payback was sweet indeed.

It was not that he didn’t love his father - he really did - but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. He had to try and take him down a notch or twenty, especially on days like today, when a contract to provide every desk in the ministry with self sorting, self punching and self stapling file-folders warranted this entire circus.

Paper was still being moved around busily and Scorpius began to wonder whether that wasn’t part of the ritual as well, the staying behind and appreciating that somehow, despite all odds, another stage in the proceedings had been reached, one that promised raises and bonuses and possibly a weekend off. Although, everyone knew the last part was never going to happen given the nature of the contract being signed. Somehow, reaching that important stage would generate more work which then was followed by new contracts etc. etc.

Scorpius looked for Albus who, unlike himself, hadn’t finished stuffing folders into his briefcase. His nose was red and looked raw and part of Scorpius wished they had the kind of relationship where he could just step up to him and kiss him on the nose, wrap that ridiculous scarf more firmly around Albus’ neck and take him home to coddle him and serve him tea under warm blankets. In these occasional daydreams Scorpius would sit there reading some ludicrously romantic novels to Albus who would look at him with genuine affection. Reality always tended to intrude and so it did just then, in this case in the form of a mighty sneeze that shook Albus’ entire frame.

“Fucking hell!” one of the ministry clerks in the room exclaimed. “Let’s get out of here, before he brings the whole building down.”

Scorpius felt like hexing him, but he had learned his lesson at a very young age. Instead of doing something that could so easily be traced back to him, he made a mental note to make sure that the clerk’s next Malfoy Industries delivery would make his life uncomfortable. He felt guilty for bringing Albus with him, but the fact was that, as sick as he was, Scorpius couldn’t bear to leave him alone in case he got worse. Scorpius wordlessly handed Albus a tissue and, when Albus was blowing his nose, pointed his wand and quickly re-heated Albus’ cup of tea. This he would never admit to doing, even under threat of death. 

Scorpius fetched both of their coats from the stand in the corner and checked his pocket watch. Merlin, only three hours! He had run out of excuses to keep Albus there with him and this bizarre version of “bring your son to work day” wasn’t even halfway over. He would much rather have been in his workshop, working on the idea he had had that very morning. Still, he knew that it couldn’t be helped. Scorpius brushed his hand over his face tiredly. He was truly and utterly fucked.

The others had already left and Scorpius was wondering what was taking Albus so long. When he looked at him more closely, sitting in his chair and breathing heavily, he saw how pale Albus had got all of a sudden. It only took him two steps to be by Albus’ side and now he saw that Albus’ hands were shaking. Before he could think about it, his hand was pressed against Albus’ forehead checking his temperature in the most old-fashioned way possible.

“You’re burning up! We’ve got to get you home!”

“No, it’s alright,” Albus said, pouring something in his tea then missing the cup the first time he tried to grab it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Scorpius asked.

“It’s okay, I’ll just take this. You still need me.”

As Albus swallowed the entire contents of his cup in one smooth go, Scorpius was at a loss for words. Why on earth would Albus willingly drink such a large dose of what could only be his own homebrewed Pepper-Up Potion with all the nasty side effects that would show up later?

“Are you out of your mind? Why would you do that?”

“Because we’re not done here. I can go lie down once we get back to the Manor and you can be a good housemate for once and pick up after yourself and leave me alone.”

Scorpius couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Instead of taking care of his own health, Albus had decided to drug himself up to his eyeballs so he could help Scorpius with something that essentially boiled down to carrying around a lot of paper and smiling and nodding when Draco explained something to him. Guilt churned inside of him, but what came out when he spoke was not guilt, but anger.

“For fuck’s sake, just because you’re a medical professional doesn’t mean you should self-medicate.”

“Oh right, now you care? When I’m at home feeling like I’m dying, you insist on dragging me out here to sit in on a meeting and do all your work, but when I’m taking something so I don’t fall over while finishing up, I’m being irresponsible? Sometimes I wonder what strange wonderland you live in, Scorpius. I really do.”

Albus got up, but Scorpius stepped in his way, reaching for the briefcase. There was a short struggle and then Scorpius was holding both of their briefcases.

“Put on your coat. My father can take care of this himself; I’m taking you home!” Scorpius voice brooked no argument. Albus only nodded and not for the first time in his life Scorpius wondered whether he had just been reverse-bullied into something Albus actually wanted him to do.

They were just about to head out when they heard the sound of raised voices drifting in from the corridor.

“Is that…?”

“Yes, it’s my father. And yours,” Albus added after a short pause. The noise grew louder and now there was the distinct sound of shouting. “This can’t be good.”

They burst out into the corridor mere seconds after they came to that conclusion. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were shouting insults at each other, their faces red and spittle bubbles collecting in the corner of their mouths.

“Piss poor excuse for a human being! Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater! I know you’re up to something, Malfoy! And I’ll stop you, if it’s the last thing I do!”

“You fucking wanker! You still think that because you saved the world once you have the right to lord it over everyone. Well, newsflash Boy Wonder, it ain’t so! You have no right to interfere in my affairs and whatever nefarious scheme your paranoia made you imagine, it’s not happening. Do you honestly think the Minister would sign that contract if I hadn’t been rehabilitated completely? You’re the only one who can’t move on, Potter! You disgust me!” Draco surprised Scorpius by spitting at Potter senior’s feet after he had spoken. A vein began to pulse at Potter’s temple and his face changed to an even darker red. It didn’t bode well. 

A small crowd began to gather, clearly drawn in by the shouting match which was increasing in volume. Nobody wanted to miss out on the fun and who knew? Maybe this would end up in _The Prophet_. Again.

“Oh, really? I’m not the one who cannot control their verbal incontinence! Go cry in a bathroom, Malfoy.” This time it was Draco’s turn to gape and splutter before finding his way to another series of insults.

“Oh, another classic. _The Prophet_ will be happy to hear that one. I’m sure,” Draco said, indicating the crowd around them, “that someone has already informed them. Must be a field day for you, getting all the attention again; the last few years must have been oh so lonely without all those headlines. I wonder what the next one’s going to be? ‘Boy who grew up in a closet, finally comes out of it'? Waste of ink if you ask me. If there were still time turners, I’d go back there and make sure that Muggle family of yours locked you in yours for good.”

The cry that burst forth from Potter senior’s throat should have shaken the walls. It was a garbled mess of rage and insults and pain. When the man threw himself at Scorpius’ father and began hitting every part of him he could reach, Scorpius thought he should have seen it coming. The crowd surrounding them was so perplexed that at first nobody reacted. Potter was pummelling into Draco, who just barely managed to get his arms up; he was always one step behind when it came to physical violence, the downside of growing up an only child in a magical household that discouraged sparring of any kind. Draco barely managed to deflect the savage blows; Potter’s rage gave him the strength of a berserker.

It was only when Potter’s punches began to draw blood which flew in all directions that someone tried to interfere. The first person to approach the fighting men got hit with a lightning bolt of wild magic before he could even get close enough to touch either of them. The man was thrown back into the crowd violently, toppling half of the spectators in the process. 

Scorpius and Albus desperately tried to get closer. Both of their fathers were bleeding now, but it was quickly becoming obvious that even Draco’s defensive moves to block Potter’s fists were getting weaker and weaker, while Potter seemed to gain in strength. Another well-placed punch must have knocked Draco unconscious, because any further hits just threw him around like a rag doll. Potter was positively insane with rage; he continued to pummel into the man and when Scorpius tried to reach the two, he ran into an invisible barrier. Somehow a shield had been raised, cutting the two off from the rest of the world. Scorpius could feel his skin prickle from the volatile magic in front of him. Maybe someone Potter didn’t hate could get through, before he killed Scorpius’ father.

“Al, do something! He’s going to kill him!” Scorpius was desperate now, as much as he despised his father lording it over him on certain days, he loved the man dearly.

When Albus tried to enter the barrier it sent him careening back into Scorpius, who caught him easily and shoved him back forward for a second attempt. Not easily beaten, Albus conjured a miniature shield charm around his wand and lower right arm and pushed through the barrier.

“ _Stupefy_!” he shouted, sending his own father toppling over Draco in a limp heap. At once the shield surrounding them collapsed, leaving Albus to stumble forward this time, quickly followed by Scorpius who pushed the elder Potter off his unconscious father.

“We’ve got to get them out of here. Help me take them into the conference room,” Scorpius hissed as the crowd gathered in closer, curious to see the extent of the damage done. They had been there on the day that Draco Malfoy, reformed Death Eater and multimillionaire, had finally met his comeuppance.

With a minimal amount of fuss and the application of a few lightening charms it didn’t take them long to move both men to the adjoining room. Closing the door behind them was much harder. Albus sent a Patronus to summon his uncle to help them deal with this. Albus looked guilty; he must have felt bad about calling the Aurors in on this, as it would most definitely get his father in trouble.

Scorpius could feel a spike of anger push through him when Albus checked on his own father first. Draco was obviously the more seriously injured of the two. It took all of his strength to push it down; Albus wasn’t choosing sides, he was simply following his instinct in checking on his own father’s well-being. He was doing exactly what Scorpius would have done had their positions been reversed. After Albus concluded that his father wasn’t in any immediate danger, he came over and took a look at Draco, waving his wand over him expertly.

“Shit!” He motioned for Scorpius to come closer. “This looks really bad. I think we’ll have to take him to St Mungo’s.” Albus waved his wand over Draco, vanishing the blood that covered his shirt and stained his hair and face with large red streaks. New blood immediately began to drip from his split lip and bloomed anew on the white of his shirt. Draco’s eyes were swelling shut as they watched; this really wasn’t good at all.

“Scorpius, get me something to press against his wound; we need to stem the blood flow.” 

Scorpius grabbed for the closest thing in his vicinity, which turned out to be his copy of the contract that had fallen from his open briefcase when they had scrambled from the room earlier. Without a second thought he transfigured it into padding which Albus could use to press on the wound.

“Very good!” Albus fixed the padding to Draco’s chest with a spell.

“Should we _enervate_ him?” Scorpius asked, fidgeting, not knowing where to put his fingers or what to do with himself.

“Scorpius, I need you to calm down! I’ve got to keep this spell in place and you need to send a Patronus to St Mungo’s and then Apparate us there.” Albus’ voice was stern as he spoke, but Scorpius was too agitated to pay proper attention. Something hit him against the shin and it took him a moment to notice that it was one of Albus’ shoes. “Oi! Captain Spectacular! Pay attention!”

“Sorry, what?”

“For fuck’s sake, Scorpius, snap out of it! I need you. Your father needs you!”

Scorpius visibly shook himself and began to go through the motions of calling up a Patronus, but no happy thought came to mind; his father’s pale face and his bloodstained hair was all that would register.

“Scorpius!”

And there it was. Looking at Albus it wasn’t that hard to think of a happy moment at all, like that moment when Albus had seen his lab at Malfoy Industries for the first time. His eyes had been alight with the kind of joy usually found in children on Christmas morning. Albus had run around the room, gushing over every new gadget and device he found and that he hadn’t been able to wait to try out.

“ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” Scorpius whispered, while still staring intently at Albus, wondering not for the first time, whether he would ever have the guts to do something about what he felt.

It took all of Scorpius’ energy to Apparate them to St Mungo’s A&E in one piece. Draco was immediately rushed off into surgery and Scorpius wondered whether his father wouldn’t have been better off in their own facility and under Albus’ care.

They sat together on a bench outside the hospital, wrapped in the coats a Ministry Elf had delivered earlier. Albus was staring at his clean hands and Scorpius could tell that he was thinking about how they had so recently been soiled by another man’s blood. Even though it hadn’t been Albus’ fault, Scorpius knew that it would be a long time before the man would be able to look at his hands and see anything but Draco’s blood on them.

Scorpius shivered when he realised just how close he had come to losing his only family. His father still wasn’t out of the woods, but the healers were carefully optimistic. Draco had suffered several broken ribs, a punctured lung and a fractured skull. Harry Potter on the other hand, had nothing to show except for a few bruises that were barely there. Scorpius had wanted to cry when he had seen his father in the hospital bed, looking so frail in a bed that suddenly seemed enormous. It had pushed having to run the company by himself into a new light. Scorpius knew that he wasn’t ready for it, for any of what it entailed.

He began to fidget again; Scorpius had never been any good at waiting. If there was something he wanted or that needed doing, Scorpius would go and get it or do it. Most of his decisions were motivated by a sort of vague impulsiveness and it drove Albus crazy. Right now there was nothing to do, no one to fight; there was only waiting and it was becoming unbearable. Albus smiled at him wearily but warmly, knowing full well what was going on inside of Scorpius, before looking back at his hands.

Watching Albus closely, Scorpius could see that he had become paler in the fifteen minutes since they had sought refuge out here. His hands were beginning to shake and Scorpius assumed this could only mean that both the adrenalin and the Pepper-Up Potion had worn off. It was time to take him home. Despite the circumstance, Scorpius was secretly relieved that he finally had something to do.

“Come on, Al. We should go home. I’m tired and there’s nothing we can do here. They’ll call us when there’s any change,” Scorpius said, thinking it was much easier saying these words out loud than feeling them. Sure they were true, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t much rather sleep on the floor in front of his father’s hospital room than go home. Albus must have sensed his doubt, because his reply wasn’t immediately affirmative.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to. I could go home and rest and you could stay here….” Albus sounded unsure which convinced Scorpius that he had made the right decision.

“Yes. Now come on, let’s go!”

At home, Scorpius put Albus to bed, busying himself with all the errands usually involved in caring for someone who was sick. It helped to pass the time. When everything was done and Albus was wrapped up in warm blankets, equipped with a hot water bottle and a re-heating cup of tea, Scorpius grabbed their monthly subscriptions of _Potions, Pestle & Cauldrons_ and _Engineers & Charms_ and brought them over. He let himself fall onto the foot end of the bed and crossed his legs before chucking the potions magazine over at Albus, hitting him square in the chest. He quickly opened his own magazine to hide his laughter.

Albus grumbled something, but Scorpius wasn’t really paying attention anymore as he had already immersed himself in an article on human flight. Time passed slowly as it was wont to do in moments like these, and eventually both Albus and Scorpius drifted off to sleep.

***

Scorpius awoke in the small hours of the morning, a crick in his neck and an incredibly annoying owl at the window waking him from a deep and peaceful slumber. He let the owl in, handing over a crumb from the biscuits he had got for Albus earlier before it could bite him and watched it take off into the early dawn. The light from the window illuminated Albus’ slumped-over figure. Scorpius could feel his insides warm at the picture the other man made. He had fallen asleep half sitting up and was cuddling the magazine he had been reading to him as if it was a stuffed toy. His chin rested peacefully on his chest and his right arm had fallen to the side, holding onto the pince-nez Albus always wore when reading. Scorpius couldn’t help but smile. The pince-nez was a bit pretentious but he loved it anyway; it was mad how good it looked on his best mate.

Albus had moved little in his sleep, just enough to uncover part of his torso which was now exposed to the cool air from the open window. He moaned and moved in his sleep, trying to get away from the current of cool air. Scorpius walked over and helped him lie down properly, putting the magazine on the nightstand, placing the pince-nez on top of it and tucking Albus in before re-heating the hot water bottle and closing the window.

It was still early, but after reading the owl he didn’t lose any time getting showered and dressed. After leaving a note and a thermos of tea on Albus’ night stand, he made his way to the hospital. His father was stable and would wake up during the course of the day. There was no need to drag Albus along, he needed to get better himself first before he was allowed anywhere near the intensive care ward.

***

Several weeks went by, where Scorpius learnt more about his father’s company than he had ever wanted to know. He didn’t have a choice since his father was still recovering and simply couldn’t shoulder the amount of work he had done before the incident. Scorpius had never liked Albus’ father, but after what had happened at the Ministry he positively loathed him. Who in their right mind beat someone to a bloody pulp after only the slightest of provocations? It was obvious to everyone, even Albus, that Harry Potter had been the one at fault, since he had come out of the fight with barely a bruise. Which was odd, considering Scorpius could have sworn that his father had managed to land at least one or two punches that broke Potter’s nose and made it bleed.

When Draco was finally able to go back to work, Scorpius was only too glad to vanish into his workshop again, tinkering around with some new invention and as removed from reality as it was possible for him to be. Here everything made sense; it was all cause and effect. Clockwork and springs were predictable and easily controlled and if one knew what they were doing, those small and irrelevant seeming things could become their very own kind of magic.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

**Albus Severus Potter - Present Day**

“Scorpius, sit down please, I’ve got something important to tell you.” Albus is putting every effort into keeping his voice steady and Scorpius’ smirk is not helping the matter at all. Scorpius behaves as if he already knows what is coming, but he can’t, can he? Even Draco didn’t know about his condition, so how could Scorpius know?

“It’s about your father’s condition; I think I’ve found what might be causing it.”

Scorpius’ face falls at these words. Not that then, something else he was expecting, maybe? Albus doesn’t have time to think about this; the moment passes and Scorpius is staring at him, urging him to go on.

“While you were…away, following up that lead, your family lawyer finally came through with the blood records I asked for. Because, as you know, I thought blood purity might be responsible for Draco’s condition. It turns out I was wrong.” Albus doesn’t want to go on; he knows how much what he has to say will impact on Scorpius.

“How could you have been wrong about that? You were so sure! You said that the problem was most likely caused by too much attention paid to procreating with purebloods only,” Scorpius asks, sounding exasperated and accusing.

“I know, I know. When I looked through the records that’s what I expected to find, rows upon rows of pure blood witches and wizards and, at first glance, that’s what I did find. But when I went a little deeper and translated some of the notes on the margins of the scrolls, I discovered something else.” Albus pauses to collect himself, this was it. “The reason blood purity isn’t the issue, is because your family isn’t exactly of pure blood.”

“You’re not serious! Albus, that can’t be true!” Scorpius’ voice is louder and sterner than it usually is. “You must be wrong; my father would’ve told me. I know he’s been trying to change our family’s thinking where that is concerned and I’m the last person to even care about this stuff, but generations of Malfoys cannot have been _wrong_ about this.”

“I’m sorry. I’m assuming that it was covered up, when the facts about your lineage first came to light. It took me days to even find the slightest discrepancy. And I’m really sorry I have to be so blunt about it, but that’s not everything.” Albus has to force himself to look straight at Scorpius as he continues, wishing he was anywhere but here. “I traced the first mention of blood impurity back to one of your ancestors and it would appear that he fell under the thrall of a creature.”

“Are you telling me, that I’m some kind of creature? That I’m not even human?” Scorpius explodes.

“Scorpius, calm down. What I’m trying to say is that your ancestor had a liaison with a humanoid creature. From what I could find out, it was probably a Veela.” Scorpius is about to interrupt again, but this time Albus won’t have any of it. “No, let me finish! The blood purity isn’t an issue, because even though the anomaly has watered down over the generations and is mostly dormant, it’s still something detectable in a blood test, which I’ve taken the liberty of setting up. I believe it to be the reason for Draco’s failing immune system. I’m convinced beyond a reasonable doubt that if we concentrate our researching efforts in that area, then and only then, will we find a solution. Now, what I need you to do is help me to convince your father to submit a blood sample and I’ll need one from you as well just to make sure…” _that you aren’t in danger as well_ , is what he wants to say, but he is interrupted by Scorpius before he can go on.

“No way! This is mad!” Scorpius shouts. “You’re insane, Albus. This cannot be the reason; you must have made some mistake.”

Albus understands that Scorpius isn’t actually attacking him. He knows how fastidious Albus is about his research and about double and triple checking his results.

“I… I need to get out of here!” Scorpius jumps up, his chair cluttering noisily as it crashes to the floor behind him, and then he rushes from the room. The sound of the door slamming reverberates around the room and Albus is surprised that there is no dust or plaster falling down from the ceiling. Although the candelabra is shaking slightly, satisfying the cliché of an exit like Scorpius’.

“I think that went very well,” Albus says to himself. He walks around the table, sets the chair right and lets himself sink down on it. “Very well indeed.”

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

**Scorpius Malfoy - Over a Year ago**

It worked! It really worked! Scorpius whooped with joy as he piloted his kite above the Manor grounds. The sound of flapping canvas could be heard, but there was nothing there. Scorpius was strapped into something that looked like an overlarge triangle, humming in the wind. Above him the skeletal frame of a regular kite, which Muggles would refer to as a hang glider, was spread out. The frame seemed to hold nothing but air, but Scorpius had rigged it so that what was holding him up was a sort of force field. It would not tear under pressure, and it was flexible and could adapt to the airflow, getting the most out of even minute winds. It was also weather proof and Scorpius was quite convinced that it was lightning proof as well, though he wasn’t quite ready to test that theory just yet.

His cheeks were red and his hair tousled beyond recognition when he finally touched down in front of his father’s study window. The tirade that followed was well worth it and Scorpius knew that secretly his father was impressed. It only took him a few minutes to fold up the kite’s frame and shrink it; with one swift move Scorpius stored it in a small velvet bag and let it disappear into his coat pocket. He could still hear his father’s voice by the time he made it back to the door that divided his and Albus’ flats from the rest of the house.

Scorpius was rummaging around the fridge searching for a beer, when he heard a series of popping noises and then one enormous resounding crash that seemed to shake the foundations of the Manor itself. Scorpius dropped the bottle in front of the open fridge, not noticing it had smashed as he ran towards the noise.

He ran down the two flights of stairs to Albus’ lab faster than he ever had before, his fear lending velocity to his steps. The heavy blast door that was supposed to keep the rest of Manor safe from fire and explosions such as the one that had just occurred was bent out of shape and hung askew on its hinges. When Scorpius tried to force it aside, he cut the palm of his hand and scorched his fingers. He cursed and then held his hand out just in front of it and could feel the head emanating from it. What he found worried Scorpius even more. There was no way anyone could have survived an explosion of this magnitude unscathed.

Scorpius drew his wand and forced the door open as far as it would go. He squeezed past it and could still feel the soft hair on the back of his neck singe.

“Albus? Are you there? Are you alright?” he shouted, knowing it was no use.

He heard a small sound come from one of the blackened corners of the room. It was furthest away from the worst of the devastation and a tiny spark of hope careened through him. Scorpius climbed over a pile of destroyed and charred lab equipment and made his way over to where he thought he had heard the noise. As he climbed the noise repeated itself. Once there, Scorpius could see that one of the massive bookshelves Albus kept in his lab had been blasted right across the room. Something or someone was buried beneath it and it was only a moment before Scorpius had lifted the heavy wooden frame up high enough to find out who or what lay beneath it. 

It was Albus.

He looked terrible. His hair was singed and his face and clothes were coated in soot and blood. Scorpius felt sick to his stomach as he began to pull Albus out from under the shelf. He probably should call for someone and not move Albus at all, but he couldn’t help himself; he had to make sure that Albus was alright. Albus began to struggle weakly in Scorpius’ arms as he pulled him out, moaning as if in pain and making Scorpius’ stomach churn with renewed guilt. Everything he did was entirely motivated by selfishness, even this.

“It’s okay, Al, I’ve got you. You’re safe now, I’ve got you,” he mumbled while brushing soot and Albus' fringe out of his face, stroking any part of it he could reach. His own hand began to hurt again and Scorpius realised that he was smearing his own blood all over Albus’ face. This wouldn’t do. Scorpius carefully cradled Albus to his chest. They couldn’t stay here.

With a small pop they reappeared in their own living room. Scorpius carefully laid Albus’ sooty frame down on their sofa – designer crème-coloured furniture be damned – and then ran over to the kitchen to get a wet cloth.

The flannel was soft against Scorpius’ skin and the cool water he had brought in a basin soothed the ached in his palm. It took a long time to clean Albus’ face and arms and with every stroke of fabric, more bruises and cuts were revealed. The water in the bucket had turned into a muddy sort of mixture of soot and blood and still Scorpius used it to wet the flannel again and again.

At some point Albus had lost consciousness and Scorpius felt safe when he gazed at his friend’s handsome features. He allowed himself to stroke across his cheeks, his forehead and for a fleeting moment his lips, before continuing to clean him up. He eventually replaced the water, before undressing Albus and removing all traces of the explosion from his body. As he ran his hands and the flannel over Albus’ chest he was relieved to see that the injuries weren’t as bad as they had seemed at first; there were hardly any cuts and they weren’t very deep. Some of them seemed to have begun healing already, but that couldn’t be right, could it?

Eventually Albus began to stir and Scorpius’ motion across his skin became less dreamy and more professional.

“What happened?” Albus asked confusedly. “How did I get here?”

“It’s alright Al. Something blew up in your lab and I brought you up here to get you cleaned up.”

“Are you sure? I feel… weird. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

“Yes, it’s not as bad as I’d first thought. You seem to have been very lucky. There’s barely any bruising and only a few minor cuts.”

“Thank Merlin. Oh God, Scorpius, the lab. Is it...?”

Scorpius had to hide a smile. Albus sounded as if he had just inquired after the health of his offspring. He tried to adopt a compassionate expression, but wasn’t very successful if the way Albus looked at him was any indication.

“I’m afraid there’s a lot of damage. It’ll take a few days to clean up and get new equipment in.”

“Shit!”

“Indeed!”

Albus hid his face behind his forearm and Scorpius allowed himself one last appreciating look while Albus couldn’t see him, before getting up.

“Do you think you're alright to get cleaned up by yourself, or would you like to lie here for a bit longer?” Albus only groaned in reply so Scorpius assumed it meant the latter. “I’ll go and call someone to get started on the clean-up. Let me know if you need any help, alright?” Albus nodded, still not looking at Scorpius.

Inside his room Scorpius let himself fall onto his bed and exhaled shakily. That had been close; too close for his liking. What the hell had Albus been thinking, experiment on something in their lab that was apparently incredibly volatile? Reckless, that was what it had been. Fucking reckless.

Scorpius felt something poke him in the hip and rummaged through his pockets to find out what it was. He withdrew a small velvet bag, and even as he slid the splintered frame from it, he knew it was too late for his kite. He sighed. There was no way around it, he would have to start from scratch but somehow it didn’t upset him as much as he thought it would. Scorpius turned on his side, holding the small velvet pouch close to his chest and eventually drifted off into a light sleep, lab clean-up be damned. There would be enough time for that tomorrow.

***

The kite never did get repaired; Scorpius eventually built a better one but left the shrunken broken remains of his prototype out in plain sight as a reminder of what had happened that day. Afterwards he had bullied Albus into placing a constant monitoring charm on his restored lab; it would immediately raise a protective shield about whatever it considered to be life threatening and any explosion and inevitable shrapnel would we be safely contained within. In his quest to keep his best friend safe, Scorpius had yet again helped invent something that only a few weeks later, after a series of tests at the Ministry, joined the ever growing amount of Malfoy Industries products used by the DMLE. Its ability to contain both magical as well as physical force predestined it for use in the bomb squad and for incineration of dark magical objects.

Life had mostly returned to normal at the Manor. Draco was back at work, Albus locked away inside his lab researching and testing some life-altering potion ingredients that Scorpius and he had brought back from their last trip to the tropical rain forest and Scorpius himself could be found in his workshop at all hours of the day, crafting away at whatever struck his mind. Some of the things were useful and would be forwarded to Malfoy Industries’ Research and Development division where they would be tested and checked for their marketability. The less useful ones, like the small box that folded paper crabs which then scuttled off the desk and hid in small corners and under furniture and work benches but were still waterproof, never made it out of his workshop.

Currently Scorpius was trying to improve the diving equipment that was part of their gear when he and Albus explored caves and searched for sunken vessels at the bottom of the ocean. Everyone needed their hobbies, their chance to get out of their own heads for a while. Some people booked vacations with spas and a free bar; Scorpius and Albus went treasure hunting.

He was wearing his regular diving gloves. The water sometimes got incredibly cold and depending on what they were doing they also had to handle sharp implements, so gloves had turned out to be a necessity. Adapting his idea for the kite, Scorpius had woven webbing of magic between the digits. It was time to test his invention. For that he had enlarged the fish tank he kept in his workshop. The tank was there for several reasons: Scorpius liked to drop in anything that he had made waterproof to try and figure out how long it would last, he would also find it incredibly entertaining and inspiring to watch his collection of magical creatures and how they reacted to whatever he introduced into their ecosystem.

The tank was now large enough to fit several hectolitres. It was still inhabited by the same creatures that seemed to enjoy their new and improved habitat very much. Currently, it was also inhabited by one Scorpius Malfoy, who was wearing Speedos and Wellingtons, as well as his new and improved gloves. One of his paper crabs had found its way into the tank and Scorpius – treading water madly – was desperately trying to untangle its claws from his Speedos. He was having no success and cursed, as he swam over to the side of the tank and held on with one hand. The crab took the opportunity to explore its ties to its ancestor the hermit crab and crawled into his attire. Scorpius had just shoved one gloved hand down the front of his Speedos in an attempt to remove the obstinate paper crustacean when Albus walked in.

“Say, Scorpius, do you still have the pipette you borrowed the other day? I need-”

Albus stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the tank that now filled most of the room. His mouth hung open in surprise, his face stuck in an expression of disbelief. Scorpius’ motion immediately stopped as he realised what a picture he must make, the water and glass magnifying everything happening inside the tank.

“Uhm…I…you…” Albus was obviously still at a loss for words. Silence stretched between them and the situation was becoming more awkward by the second.

Scorpius made a grimace, unable to remove his hand from his swimming trunks because the crab was moving again.

“Let’s face it, this is not the worst thing you’ve caught me doing.” He said it lightly, remembering the time he had used one of Albus’ prototypes to stir a new type of glue because it had been handy. Albus’ face when he had caught him at it had been priceless. Since stirring glue with a dildo hadn’t been his brightest idea, Scorpius didn’t mind that Al had never left his prototypes lying around the workshop again. 

Albus’ adult line was wildly successful and sometimes, if Scorpius was completely honest with himself, he was slightly offended by the fact that it brought in almost as much revenue as some of his own inventions. 'Tiger Butter' – whatever that meant – was popular with both women and men and had been hailed in several magazines because, among other things, every single item would keep the user safe from disease and had contraceptive properties. Safe to say, knowing Albus was working on a new release usually drove Scorpius up the wall.

“Al, could you give me a hand?”

“Uh… I’m not sure that’s appropriate. I think… I’d really better come back later. When you’re not… busy.” Albus sounded odd and was already turning to leave.

“Al, seriously. Fuck! That hurt!” Scorpius cursed and squirmed when the crab began to pinch him.

“Alright,” Albus huffed. “But we’ll never talk about this again, ever! What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to climb into the tank with me and hold me steady so I can - Shit, this thing’s agile! So I can get it out of there.”

Albus seemed to have decided that he would rather not know what was going on. Without another word he undressed until he was only wearing his boxers; this time Scorpius had to look away lest he get himself into even more trouble. He couldn’t allow his body to react inappropriately in front of his best friend. It only took Albus a moment to climb the sturdy ladder that was leaning against the side of the fish tank and immerse himself in the water; he swam over to Scorpius and kept himself upright by constantly treading water.

“It’s actually quite nice,” Albus commented.

“I know. Now come over here. Hold onto the glass and my hip so I can use both my hands.”

Albus didn’t even raise an eyebrow at the sour note in Scorpius’ voice and simply obeyed. When he had both of his hands free, Scorpius reached into his Speedos while Albus looked away pointedly. After a short struggle that tore a hole in his swimming trunks, he managed to remove the crab. 

“Hah! Gotcha! Tenacious little bugger,” Scorpius shouted and then, swinging it back and forth, dropped it over the side of the tank. The crab immediately scurried away upon hitting the floor.

“Thanks,” Scorpius said, grinning. “That was beginning to get really uncomfortable.”

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

**Albus Severus Potter - Present Day**

Albus stretches and groans as he sits on a barstool at the counter in their kitchen. The chairs aren’t comfortable at the best of times, but after spending the night in the lab they have turned into exquisite instruments of torture and not the stylish means of repose they were originally designed for. His normally perfectly straight suit jacket and shirt look slept in, which is a misconception, because if Albus had slept at all the night before, he wouldn’t be sitting here now, staring into the mug containing his caffeinated beverage of choice and less than gracefully shovelling one spoonful of cornflakes after another into his mouth.

Like so many times before, Albus has lost track of time in the lab. In the past Scorpius would have been in the workshop beside Albus’ lab and would have poked his head in, wordlessly placing a mug of coffee and a fresh shirt on his desk when one of his clockwork companions reminded him. These days Scorpius has become more and more secretive about his inventions, something Albus finds very worrying. What scares him more, though, is Scorpius’ tendency to go out and behave like the playboy the public expects him to be and not the quiet genius inventor that lurks just underneath the surface and is who he truly is.

Albus has run some further tests on the blood samples he had collected from Draco, using his own blood as a reference specimen. He is convinced that the Veela genes in Draco’s DNA are what is messing with his immune system and making him sick. Albus knows he is _this close_ to a major breakthrough and creating a serum that will at least stabilise Draco’s condition. They can’t really ask for more with how things have been going. Even now, Albus cannot switch his mind off. He has come home not for a nap, but for a quick shower, a change of clothing and some breakfast. He had made it as far as the counter earlier, overwhelmed by hunger and his need for caffeine, and never made it to his flat for the change of clothes or the shower. Well, that will have to come later, he decides, as he props up the tome on Veela mergings that he has had sent over from the extensive Malfoy family library. The carton of milk it is leaning against is threatening to topple over and spill its contents everywhere with every single page he turns, but Albus doesn’t even notice. He distractedly pushes his pince-nez back up his nose and squints slightly, his eyes tired and aching, but still unable to stop.

There was something odd about his own sample and he is trying to find out what it means. The book speaks of Veela and their mates knowing each other, of the Veela binding its mate to them through an exchange, a kind of merging, which changes its mate into a better match. What it doesn’t tell Albus is how that exchange happens or what it entails, but he is beginning to suspect that it might be something as simple as enhanced airborne infection during flu season. The book goes on to explain that a Veela has its mate under its thrall. The mate will long to stay close to the Veela, much like the Veela longs to be close to its mate. This influence will only increase over time if the bond isn’t consummated, making the chosen mate bound to mood swings, depression and uncontrolled bursts of wild magic, while also slowly but surely draining the Veela of its life force. If the Veela dies due to the unconsummated bond the mate would be free, its hormonal responses returning to normal. Albus doesn’t know whether Draco’s Veela genes are dominant enough. If he had managed to initiate a merging but hadn’t consummated it, it would explain what is happening to him.

Of course the book isn’t as straight forward about it, books like that never are, but that is what Albus manages to filter out of all the glorification and Veela worship the tome in front of him mostly spouts. That is not what Albus is worried about, though. He is worried about the implications. When he checked his own blood sample against Draco’s there was a substance in his own blood stream he had been unable to identify. If this means what he thinks it does, it means that he is under a Veela’s thrall right now. It can’t be Draco, because despite a sort of general feeling of affection towards the man who gave him his first chance to prove himself as a scientist, he doesn’t feel any inclination to bond with him in the manner implied by a Veela merging ritual. Albus stares into the distance, turning the information he has acquired over and over in his mind.

Veela genes are passed down through the generations; Draco and his current predicament are definite proof of that theory, that much is certain. However, that could only mean that Scorpius might also be affected. The magnitude of what this entails, if it is true, overwhelms Albus and he suddenly feels nauseous. He pushes his half-eaten bowl of cornflakes away and tries to calm his racing heart. It can’t be. He doesn’t want it to be true. But the part of his mind that isn’t overcome with a sense of terror and desolation determines that it would explain a lot.

As Albus is trying to come up with a plan to get a phial of Scorpius’ blood to test –and hopefully disprove – his theory, he hears the front door to their apartment open. The sound of giggles permeates the air and Albus’ gut clenches in distress as he realises that Scorpius had in fact been out drinking and brought home a couple of slags, or at least women who dress like that, to fuck.

Albus pretends to be immersed in his book, but anyone who knows him well enough would be able to tell by the cast of his shoulders and his fixed gaze that he was by no means high on research. Scorpius keeps saying he looks completely deranged when his higher brain functions decide things such as breathing, standing upright and facial expressions are beneath them in their eternal quest to accumulate knowledge. The drunk giggling and shuffling steps of the three people come closer to the kitchen and Albus knows it won’t be a moment until he will be able to see them. His insides are in knots and his heart is breaking all over again. Deep down he knows he shouldn’t feel like this. But the heart wants what the heart wants and there is nothing the mind can do to overcome it, even if it understands why the heart wants what it does.

Scorpius stops in front of the counter, but Albus doesn’t look up. Only when the women begin to laugh again does he glance over, ignoring them in favour of giving Scorpius a pointed stare. Scorpius is completely out of it, his hair wet with sweat and either sticking to his forehead or up at ridiculous angles. His pupils are blown so wide from whatever it is he is on that Albus cannot make out the colour of his eyes from the other side of the counter. Scorpius’ arms are slung around the waist and the shoulder of the two women and that is what holds him upright. He is swaying back and forth and Albus is convinced that Scorpius will pass out within the next ten minutes.

Albus snaps the tome shut and stalks over to the three of them. Scorpius smiles cheerfully, Albus’ pissed off state not registering through his drug or alcohol or who-the-fuck-cares induced haze. When Albus pokes him in the chest with his index finger, still ignoring the giggling women beside him, Scorpius just smiles that lazy smile of his.

“Hey,” Scorpius says, stretching out the e and y ridiculously long.

“Scorpius! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! Do you know where we’re supposed to be in two hours? I thought you were downstairs in your workshop.”

Scorpius detaches his hand from around one of the women’s shoulders and waves it around in a manner that suggests that even though he wanted to make a point he is now more fascinated by his arm suddenly moving on its own. He begins to giggle and burps loudly, before clinging to the woman again, because he would fall on his arse otherwise.

“Dunno,” Scorpius mumbles and then continues, slurring the words so badly they become nearly impossible to understand. “'ve you met my frnds? C’mere Ebony, want you to meet my mate Aaaal. He’s got a funny name! Al, this Ebony and that’s Latisha. They brought me home! Aren’t they nice? Say ‘hello’ Al.”

If Albus was the kind of person who slapped people, this was the moment he would have hit his best friend. He despises how angry Scorpius’ ruthless behaviour makes him and how he somehow always ends up in the jilted spouse position, having to defend their home. Instead of introducing himself like Scorpius asked him to, Albus drags him over to the sofa and makes him sit down, propping him up with cushions so he won’t fall over. Scorpius’ eyes have fallen shut and that stupid grin is still plastered on his face when Albus takes his pulse and waves his wand over him, casting a few diagnostic spells. The two women shout at him, but he doesn’t even bother to acknowledge them, bar a tight-lipped, “shut up!”

“Scorpius.” Albus grabs his shoulder tightly now. “What have you taken? Tell me! You fucking idiot! I told you to be careful, why can’t you for ruddy _once_ listen to me?” Scorpius has already passed out, but the chime of Albus’ wristband reassures him that for the moment Scorpius is in no immediate danger. 

The two women sidle up to Scorpius on the sofa, draping themselves all over him. One of them, Albus has no idea whether it is Ebony or Latisha, strokes his thighs, her intention clear, and Albus has to force the sudden flare of temper down before he earns himself a life sentence in Azkaban for committing murder most foul.

“Why don’t you take your sad little PA geek-arse away from here and let us do what we came here to do?” Ebony or whatever her name is says in a voice she probably considers to be threatening, but that has a rather different effect on Albus. Her willingness to molest an unconscious man for some nefarious purpose is the last straw and he can feel the last of his restraint snap. This is his home and there are many things he would rather suffer through than a couple of air-headed bimbos on the premises, including reliving his single, sad little geek moment at Hogwarts when Peeves had thought it funny to plunge him headfirst into a toilet.

“Pebony or Lettuce or whatever your name actually is, don’t think for a minute you can take me!” The woman huffs at being addressed such, but Albus doesn’t let her get a word in edgewise. “I don’t care who you think you are, or why you think you can behave like this, but if you don’t remove your bony underfed arse from my sofa, you’ll wish you had never been born. I am, among other things, Mr. Malfoy’s personal assistant. I take care of all of his needs, and that occasionally includes taking out the trash.”

The women both look gobsmacked and Albus actually brandishes his wand, levelling it at them before he continues. “Now, if you would oblige me, do vacate the premises before I have to call security. They always get cranky when they get called out this early in the morning and we wouldn’t want something nasty to happen to your scantily clad physiques, now would we?” Albus can’t help but grin when the women scamper from the room, their slim heels clicking on the floor as they try to avoid their seemingly inevitable fate. He hasn’t felt this good about anything in a long time; it is as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders and Albus cannot stop himself from laughing out loud. His sombre mood only returns when he looks down at Scorpius on the sofa. The women have managed to unbutton his shirt halfway down to his trousers, revealing a patch of light blond hair in the process, and it takes all of Albus’ strength to not reach down and card his hands through it, to feel its softness against his own skin. He sighs and then casts a weightless charm on Scorpius before picking him up and carrying him over to his bedroom. He undresses Scorpius carefully and casts a few monitoring spells; creating the softly glowing hovering orbs is now second nature to him.

Something is wrong with Scorpius, he can tell. They have to talk about it and, like so many times before, Albus vows that things will change. Next time he won’t take no for an answer. For now he will make excuses and reschedule the meeting. Albus tenderly covers up Scorpius’ still form and makes sure he won’t be cold, before negligently flicking his wand at the blinds, plunging the room into immediate darkness. Albus knows he will be back to check on Scorpius later, but for now it is back to the lab for him. The last tests should have run their course and with a bit of luck, he will have the breakthrough he has been hoping for.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

**Scorpius Malfoy - A Year ago**

Quiet classical music discreetly filled the room with an air of sophistication. Waiters in impeccable uniforms moved silently between groups of people in evening wear, replacing half-empty glasses and offering exotic canapés. Everything was perfect, from the guest list down to the illumination, as things were wont to be if initiated by a Malfoy. People would hail this evening as a success. _The Prophet_ would pronounce the grand opening a revelation and the exhibit’s content as an asset to all wizarding kind. To Scorpius the entire circus only deserved one word descriptions, such as boring, overrated or redundant. However nobody had asked his opinion or even taken into consideration whether he wanted to be here at all, which left him with no forum to voice his displeasure.

People around him seemed to be having a good time and since he had promised his father he would mingle and socialise that was exactly what he was doing. As he finished retelling the story of how he and Albus had found the submerged ruins of an ancient wizarding village just off the coast of Scotland, accidentally transported there by a warding mishap hundreds of years ago, he looked around the room for his best friend.

Albus was the only one there who knew him well enough to know that he was scowling on the inside. When Scorpius caught his eye, Albus flashed him a grin and a wink. Even though Scorpius felt like strangling his best friend for leaving him to mingle alone, he knew that being here tonight had at least one advantage: Scorpius could indulge himself in shameless Albus ogling. If there was one person that was made for evening dress it was Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius made sure he got his fair share of appreciating it.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Scorpius said, nodding at the people in his immediate vicinity. He made his way across the room towards where Albus was lurking by a small indoor palm tree. He grabbed two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and handed one to Albus when he reached him. Scorpius clinked their glasses together smiling wryly.

“So, do you feel like, what was it again? ‘A God among scientific-minded wizards’?”

Albus only snorted in reply and downed a third of his champagne in one smooth go.

“I’m assuming that means ‘no’. I myself am not really identifying with that archaeological daredevil tag they’ve left me with either, but I suppose we don’t really have a choice at this point.”

“You’ve definitely got that right,” Albus replied.

“Albus, do you ever wonder…”

“Wonder about what?”

“Wonder whether it’s all worth it? Wouldn’t you much rather be out of the limelight, just exploring and researching on your own terms for science’s own merit?”

“I always thought you lived and breathed for the attention.”

“Cheeky!”

“Someone has to be. We can’t let your head grow any bigger than it is, Captain Spectacular. It might upset the community members of the fairer persuasion.” Albus smirked as he spoke.

Scorpius chuckled but then turned serious again. “Humour me.”

“Sometimes, I suppose.” Albus paused, giving Scorpius an intent look and then went on, “You’re very thoughtful tonight.”

“I guess so. I feel differently. Things have changed; things that matter have changed.” They fell silent and for the first time in a long time it felt awkward.

Just when Scorpius was close to breaking the silence by declaring something utterly inappropriate a perfectly manicured hand snaked across his shoulder from behind, its red nails in sharp contrast to Scorpius’ dark suit.

“Why so glum? I only just heard someone say you were the man of the hour.”

Scorpius turned around at the voice, unable to hide his grin.

“Pansy! I didn’t think you’d come.”

“And miss embarrassing my godson in public by being overly affectionate?” She smirked, gripped Scorpius’ chin in her hands and puckered her lips. “Don’t you want your auntie to give you a kissy?”

She began to laugh when Scorpius – blushing furiously – tried to twist his face out of her iron grip in an attempt to escape his fate. She let go, still grinning, and patted his cheek instead.

“Alright, alright, I know you’re all grown up now. I’ll try not to be hurt by your lack of enthusiasm for your auntie’s love. The Potterlet, however, will not get off that easily!” She winked at Albus. “Let’s get those infernal hellos over with like civilized people,” Pansy added before kissing the air on both sides of Scorpius’ face.

“Pansy!” Scorpius whined, making her grin all the harder with the knowledge that she was embarrassing him.

“Now, Potterlet. Your turn.” 

Albus looked at the floor, trying to hide his blush, but smiling at her antics. Unlike Scorpius he stepped up to her and allowed her to kiss him on the cheek. Pansy wrapped an arm around his middle and leant over to whisper in his ear loud enough for Scorpius to hear.

“You look gorgeous tonight, darling!”

Albus blushed an even brighter shade of red and cast his gaze at the floor again. Just like Pansy, Scorpius found it endearing and silently agreed with her assessment.

“So, Potterlet,” she said, leaning into him as his arm was now affectionately wound around her waist. “I hope your young man over there has been treating you well.”

Scorpius looked away in mortification; there was no one quite like Pansy to make him feel less than suave in public. Albus mumbled something in reply that Scorpius couldn’t make out, but that made Pansy laugh.

“It’s alright, darling, don’t worry. I’ll stop embarrassing you two now. It’s been good to see you. We need to catch up soon and properly this time. Why don’t you drop by my office, say next Wednesday?” Both Albus and Scorpius nodded, smiling. “Now, where has your father got to? I promised to rescue him from that nefarious art dealer who’s been trying to get into his pants at every gallery opening and official dinner this month. Toodles!” She was gone, as fast as she had appeared.

Albus carded his hand through his hair, messing it up unintentionally. Scorpius’ fingers itched to touch it and set it straight again, but he knew he wasn’t allowed such liberties in public. His friend smiled sheepishly up at Scorpius, rubbing his own neck nervously. The conjured classical music faded away on a last note and a band that had set up earlier began playing in the background. 

“Oh, God, I love her, but…”

“Dance with me!” Scorpius suddenly said.

“Pardon?”

“I asked you to dance with me, Albus.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Albus replied sounding uncomfortable.

“Why not?”

“Because of where we are and who we’re with. I just don’t think it’s appropriate me dancing with you in this setting in front of these people.”

“So you would dance with me if we were somewhere else?” Scorpius asked, smiling. He gently laid his hand on Albus’ forearm and went on, “I don’t care what people think. Can’t I just dance with my best friend?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I know.”

Albus didn’t reply, but Scorpius wasn’t so easily dissuaded.

“Come on, give yourself just a little push and dance with me. “

“I…alright. But only one dance,” Albus eventually conceded.

Scorpius was happy. He knew this would most likely have repercussions, but right now he didn’t care. Scorpius took his blushing best friend by his offered hand and led him onto the dance floor.

The dance floor wasn’t very large and several couples were already swaying to the music when Scorpius arrived with Albus in tow. The light above was soft, its sheen covering all the rough edges and making everything seem like it was emanating a golden glow. In other words, it was perfect. Scorpius chose not to question his sudden impulse to ask Albus to dance and didn’t give his best friend a chance to either. He offered his right hand for Albus to take and off they went.

Finally holding Albus in his arms like this made Scorpius’ heart race. The heat of Albus’ body was seeping into Scorpius’ hand where he held onto Albus’ waist, and his hand felt warm and sure in Scorpius’ own. He never wanted the moment to end. While they turned and swayed to the music, Scorpius reminisced that while they hugged and touched each other all the time, it had never felt like this. This was different. This was something more and he didn’t know whether he wanted to - or would even be able to - go back to what they had before.

They were looking at each other, the tension between them turning into something almost palpable, volumes of unspoken words, of yearnings untold, hovering in the air between them. Scorpius was the first to look away, unable to bear the intensity any longer.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” he whispered.

“No,” Albus simply replied.

They fell silent again, but continued dancing. Step by step, they ended up closer together until they were touching from hip to shoulder, both unable to say who had made the first move. Albus’ face came ever closer to his and Scorpius could feel Albus’ warm breath on his lips. They were going to kiss. Finally. It was going to happen right now. He closed his eyes and waited, for once not the one boldly dashing forward, but rather the one left to anticipate.

His heart was beating a staccato beat inside his chest. He was pressing one of Albus’ slender hands against it and thought he felt the slightest brush of lips against his own, when someone started screaming.

“Help! Someone please help!”

Albus and Scorpius jumped apart, turning towards the source of the disturbance as one. A crowd had gathered around the person who had shouted and Scorpius – Albus hot on his heels – immediately made his way over to find out what was going on. They had to push and shove but eventually made it into the front row. Scorpius’ heart skipped several beats and then he was beside the fallen person, kneeling on the floor.

“Father?”

When Draco didn’t react in any way, Scorpius turned to the closest person, who happened to be Pansy.

“What happened? What’s wrong with him?”

Before Pansy could get a word in, a bright flash went off and someone began asking even more questions.

“How dare you!” Scorpius exploded, grabbing the camera and smashing it on the floor. He shoved the man so forcefully that he stumbled into the people crowding in to sneak a look behind him and took several of them down with him. “Someone has been injured and instead of calling the Aurors or Healers, you think it’s the right moment to take a photo? You disgusting swine!”

Scorpius took another step forward to end what he had started, completely overcome with rage, when a solid hand settled onto his forearm, grounding him. Albus pulled him back towards where his father had fallen and just like that his priorities were reversed entirely. Albus knelt down beside Draco, checking his vitals, while Pansy and Scorpius glared at everyone around them who looked like they were taking an unhealthy interest in what was going on. After what seemed like an eternity, Albus got up and stepped behind Scorpius. He leant in to whisper into Scorpius’ ear. Despite everything Scorpius could feel part of him store the feeling of the touch of Albus’ hand on his shoulder away to look at later; right now there was simply no room for the emotions it invoked.

“We’ve got to move him somewhere quieter. I can’t examine him properly over here.” Scorpius must have reacted with some distress, because Albus’ hand squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before he went on. “Don’t worry, Scorpius. I can’t say why he passed out but, so far, his vitals seem stable. I think he’ll be alright if we get him out of here.”

Scorpius nodded, swallowing his worry and waving Pansy over. He repeated what Albus had told him and together the three of them carefully carried Draco into a small side office. The room seemed unnaturally quiet after the door fell closed behind them. They carefully lay Draco down on a leather chaise lounge. Albus began a more detailed examination while Scorpius slumped down into an old armchair, staring at nothing. This was the second time in only a few months that he had had to carry his unconscious father into a separate room. 

To be faced once again with the prospect of losing his father was something Scorpius found very hard to bear. The thought of being the only one left, of having to start every day without his father, was so terrifying that he pushed it to the back of his mind and tried to fill it with whatever was closest that would take up the space. It was no wonder that Scorpius invented more in times of great distress than at any other.

Pansy was shouting at someone who was trying to squeeze their way in through the door, eventually slamming it in their face, while Albus was doing something to Draco that Scorpius didn’t understand. Didn’t want to understand. The less he thought about it the better.

“Scorpius, hey!” Albus snapped his fingers in front of Scorpius’ face to get his attention.

“Huh?”

“We’d better take him home. I’ve no idea what’s wrong with him, but I can’t wake him up and that worries me. We should have the right equipment at home, though.”

“Shouldn’t we… isn’t St Mungo’s…?”

“No. I don’t believe there’s anything they could do at this point that we can’t. They’d only put him under surveillance and we’ve got the better equipment for that anyway.”

Scorpius nodded mutely. In all this mess he only knew one thing for sure: that he trusted Albus’ judgement above all, not only with his own life, but with the life of his father as well.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

**Albus Severus Potter - Present Day**

The sound of the music is deafening and Albus is disoriented when it assaults him as he enters the room. It takes him a bit to get his bearing; there are more half-dressed people in this room than he has ever seen, including that one time he actually took his one and only holiday by the sea.

Gyrating bodies seem to cover every surface flat enough to stand on. There are people dancing on the tables and chairs. If they are not snogging - or taking things even further - on the sofa, they are dancing there too and the designated dance floor is so overcrowded that it is damn near impossible to make out where one dancer ends and another begins. The person dealing out the drinks has their work cut out for them as party-goers climb over the bar, making off with bottles of their favourite beverage, and just as Albus turns to look away, someone sets a Jaeger-train on fire. The sound of the smoke alarm is inaudible over the din in the room and only the blinking red light indicates that anything is amiss, not that anyone seems to care.

Whoever is responsible for the volume of the music also appears to have control of the epilepsy inducing lighting rig over the contraption that is supporting the turntables’ weight and keeps them spinning. Albus doesn’t know whether this is a Muggle or a wizarding party. Can’t know, because in Scorpius’ life there is only one constant when he behaves like this - maddening unpredictability.

The beat of the music is reverberating in Albus’ chest; that and the crowded room make it hard for him to breathe and even though he is supposed to find Scorpius his priorities have suddenly changed. He has to get away, get outside somehow and get some fresh air. It takes him longer than he expects to cross the room and he is feeling flustered by the time he reaches the wide glass doors to the balcony and slides them open. He drags desperate gulps of fresh air into his lungs, not caring whether anyone can see him behave like a fish on dry land. His lungs hurt from the cold air he inhaled too quickly to be healthy. What matters though, is that the feeling of claustrophobia slowly subsides and Albus eventually becomes aware of his surroundings. The balcony he stumbled out onto is huge, easily larger than forty square metres in size. There is no furniture or decoration of any kind bar the fairy lights, which have been woven through the banister, their brightness in sharp contrast to the dark night sky.

Albus crosses the balcony to stand by the banister, rubbing warmth back into his hands as he walks, and then leans over, holding on tightly, to see how far down it goes. To his surprise he doesn’t see the street down below, but a glass dome that covers an indoor swimming pool. Whoever is throwing this party Scorpius is attending tonight, definitely knows how to have a good time. And still, Albus wishes he was anywhere but here and wasn’t the bringer of bad news on top of everything. He would have happily spent the night in his lab, doing further research on how to cure Scorpius’ father, before getting up early enough to clean up whichever mess Scorpius had made overnight while trying to forget what was happening to the only family he has ever known. 

Not that Scorpius was bad off; his father had married his mother with the sole purpose of producing an heir. It had been included in their marriage contract and as soon as Scorpius had been born, his mother had received a large settlement. The divorce had gone through within days of the event. Scorpius had met his birthmother because he wanted to, but as she said herself, she wasn’t the motherly type. The relationship with her had cooled off significantly with interest in keeping it alive quickly dwindling on both sides. Draco had been the only family Scorpius had known and in Albus’ opinion he couldn’t have been more fortunate. Draco had been a doting father, always encouraging and maybe a bit too convinced of his child’s genius, but then Scorpius has turned out alright in the end, at least Albus thinks so.

The reason Albus has been forced to show up at the party, instead of waiting for Scorpius to come home, ready to be cleaned up and scolded for his behaviour, is that Draco’s condition had taken a distinct turn for the worse earlier that evening and he had to be rushed to St. Mungo’s. He is now in intensive care, the healers baffled by his condition, and Albus is scared that maybe he might not be able to get Scorpius back to the hospital in time.

His breath forms small clouds in front of his face; definitely not a wizarding party, he decides. A wizard would have remembered to cast a heating charm on the balcony. Albus is considering the merits of getting reprimanded for practising magic in the vicinity of Muggles even if it is only a small heating charm to keep himself from freezing out here, when he hears an odd choking sound.

His wand is in his hand before he can even think about it. Albus turns around slowly, scanning the balcony carefully, trying to figure out where the sound came from. It can mean anything, but in his experience, noises like that seldom mean everything is alright. He can make out a shape about ten metres from where he is standing. Albus approaches whoever it is carefully, trying not to startle them, because even if they are not actually in danger, scaring someone this close to a sheer drop of several metres through a glass dome into a pool still isn’t the safest thing in the world.

The person looks strange and even though Albus is now only a few metres away from them, he cannot make them out properly. He should be able to, but it is as if the person is dressed in some kind of camouflage gear and has painted their skin to match the night sky.

“Excuse me,” he says, trying to sound calm. “Are you alright?”

Albus’ wand is safely hidden in his sleeve again, ready to slide out in the blink of an eye, should he need it.

 _D-don’t come any closer. Please_ , the dark shape replies and Albus stops in his tracks. _This… it’s not - I’m not right. I don’t want you to see..._ The voice sounds strange. Muffled, somehow, as if the person is speaking through water and only fragments of what they are trying to say reach the surface.

There is a loud crash from inside. The music stops abruptly and Albus turns towards the window. He can hear laughter and chatter and then the music continues as if nothing has happened. When he turns back to the railing there is no dark shape and for a moment Albus wonders if he had been hallucinating, until he sees, as if called by his earlier musings, Scorpius, standing on the other side of the railing. His face is held towards the starry night above and he is holding onto the banister, leaning forward as far as his arms will allow. Before he can stop himself, Albus is by his side, not caring _how_ Scorpius ended up there only that he has got to get him back on solid ground. Albus pulls an unresisting Scorpius back against the banister, wrapping his arms around Scorpius’ middle and holding on as if for dear life. As he presses his cheek into Scorpius’ he can feel how cold it is; cold and wet. Has Scorpius been crying? There is no time to find out; he has to get Scorpius back over the railing before something terrible happens.

“Come on, Scorpius. It’s okay, just come back onto the balcony with me.” Albus is desperately trying to keep the panic at the thought of what would happen if he let go, out of his voice.

“Al? What’re you doing here? I didn’t know you were invited,” Scorpius says with an easy smile, holding his face back far enough from Albus to look at him, before snuggling back into Albus’ arms as if they were embracing and Albus isn’t trying to save his life. “Isn’t it beautiful up here? I was going to go back inside, but then I took one look at the stars and couldn’t help myself. I don’t even know how long I’ve been here. Must have lost track of time.”

Scorpius must have taken some potion again; he wouldn’t behave like this otherwise. Albus doesn’t dare let go to check his pulse and pupils, but Scorpius’ dreamy voice is proof enough.

“Scorpius, you’re standing on the wrong side of the banister! You’ve got to come back here. Please?” Albus is getting desperate with Scorpius’ refusal to accept reality. He can’t let go, because Scorpius is cuddling into him, his hands no longer holding onto the railing, and for the very same reason he cannot use his wand to save him.

“You’re so warm, Al. Always there. Always…” Scorpius whispers, trying to turn around in what he perceives to be an embrace and slipping from the edge with one foot. It takes all of Albus’ strength to keep Scorpius from falling.

“Stop, Scorpius! Stop moving right now!”

But Scorpius doesn’t stop moving, he clings and squirms and turns in Albus’ arms, until he is facing him. He pokes Albus in the chest with his index finger and then against the forehead for good measure.

“Always so stern. You should learn to have some fun!”

Albus has had enough; whether Scorpius is leaning in to snuggle or snog him, he doesn’t know, but for once that really isn’t his priority.

“You stupid wanker! I’m not the one standing on the edge of a balcony, about to topple to my death, thank you very much. I don’t care if I’m no fun!” Inspiration strikes and he continues. “And if you want to change that, come over here and make me have fun! Don’t be such a fun hog! Show me how it’s done, I’m right here.”

Somehow that challenge has convinced Scorpius and with Albus’ help he finally climbs back onto the balcony. There is an evil glint in his unnaturally wide pupils – definitely on something then, Albus decides – as he advances on Albus. Still wary of Scorpius’ intentions when under the influence, Albus has trouble stopping himself from trembling under his heated gaze. Scorpius walks him into the banister and pushes himself up against Albus, his hands everywhere, diving into trousers and sliding underneath Albus’ shirt faster than Albus can stop him.

“Let’s hope you don’t regret your words,” Scorpius veritably purrs, Albus’ reluctance and resistance going entirely unnoticed. Scorpius pushes his pelvis into Albus’ with clear intention and groans when a similar hardness meets his own. It is nothing but a physical reaction to the proximity, nothing but a fake emotion Albus repeats inside his head over and over again like a mantra, but it feels so bloody fantastic. He cannot suppress a moan and arches into the contact. Scorpius takes this as encouragement and presses himself even more firmly against Albus so the railing digs painfully into his lower back. Scorpius’ hands have somehow found their way into his trousers, past his pants and he is running a finger down the crack of Albus’ arse, while kneading a cheek with the other hand and Albus is done for.

The sound of splintering wood is barely able to penetrate Albus’ lust-addled mind and it’s when he hears the sound again that understanding dawns. There is nothing to lean against all of a sudden and one of Scorpius’ more frantic pushes causes Albus to fall backwards. He already knows it is too late; his velocity is too high for Scorpius to be able to grab him and keep him from falling. 

It is as if everything is happening in slow motion; the sky dips and fills his field of vision almost entirely and Scorpius’ expression changes from dreamy to confused to desperate. His arms stretch into the empty air, his fingers separated by only a few cruel inches from Albus’, who is reaching back for him in vain.

The sky does another somersault and Scorpius is growing ever smaller. Albus only hopes that he doesn’t jump after him, because that is exactly the kind of thing Scorpius would do. Any second now, there will be the sound of breaking glass and the excruciating pain of dozens of cuts on his skin as he crashes through the glass dome beneath him. When it happens, the pain is so intense that Albus feels like he is being flayed alive. His entire back is on fire and he cannot feel his legs after he collides with one of the domes’ cross beams. For a moment he thinks his downward journey might be over, but he is wrong. Ever so slowly, he begins to slide down and then he is falling again. Hitting the water isn’t as painful as he expected it to be, but then, his threshold for pain has been stretched far beyond his body’s ability to comprehend already.

 _So this is it_ , he muses, as the water closes over his face and he sinks to the bottom of the pool. Glass shards and supporting beams follow him down, descending in slow motion. His lungs hurt from the lack of oxygen and there are white spots dancing in front of his eyes. It is as if he sees everything through a haze, his sense of self-preservation still stopping him from breathing in, and drawing water into his screaming lungs. But for how long?

The last thing he sees, which burns itself into his mind, is the image of an angel diving into the water and - there is no other word for it - spreading its wings and flying towards him. And it is blue. The angel is blue. Yet another beam topples down and as iron and bone collide, unconsciousness gently gathers Albus into her arms.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/wantsunicorns/pic/00005srw/)

***

“…Oh God! I’m sorry! Albus, I’m so very, very sorry!”

Albus has never heard Scorpius sound so distraught. It takes a while to realise that the reason he is having such a hard time breathing is because Scorpius has thrown himself onto his chest, trying to apologise for something he had no control over.

“ ‘s alright,” Albus slurs. It takes all of his strength to move one of his arms enough to be able to pat Scorpius on the back. “It’s okay, Scorpius. It’s not your fault!”

Scorpius doesn’t reply and Albus doesn’t know what to make of that. He tries to make out where he is. The last thing he remembers is splintering wood and falling, and then intense pain. So why isn’t he in pain now? Albus’ eyes fly open and his heart begins beating frantically as panic grips him. He collided with a cross beam. He must be severely injured. His legs. He hadn’t been able to feel his legs. But no, everything seems to be okay. He can’t see properly, though. Before he panics again, Albus tries to rationalise what this might mean and then, as he strains his eyes, he is slowly able to make out the ceiling of the room.

Albus is lying in Scorpius’ bed. The blinds are closed, like they usually are these days when Scorpius comes home from one of his late night endeavours and Albus has to put him to bed. Scorpius still isn’t moving and breathing becomes painful once more. Albus knows that he is less severely injured than he ought to be, but that doesn’t mean that he isn’t bruised all over. He feels like he has been a troll’s plaything while he was unconscious.

“Scorpius, what happened?”

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. Thank you for saving me!” Albus smiles at this; for once it is Albus who needed saving.

“No!” Scorpius says with emphasis and sits up, not looking at Albus.

“What do you mean, no? No, it’s not going to be okay?” Albus is confused at the severity of Scorpius’ reply.

“No, it’s not okay. It’s not going to be okay. I didn’t save you, Al! How am I ever going to make up for this? For being responsible for your…” Scorpius’ voice breaks and he cannot continue.

“What do you mean you didn’t save me? Who… I mean…” Albus licks his dry lips; he doesn’t know what to say.

“What I _mean_ , is that I was standing there up on that balcony, watching you fall after I assaulted you. I was screaming my head off, too high on whatever that sparkly stuff I took was, to even get it into my mind to call for help. I don’t know what happened after that. I don’t even know how we got home for fuck’s sake! How can everything be alright, if this is all my fault?”

“Scorpius.” Albus reaches out to him, but Scorpius shrinks away from his touch and Albus can feel his heart breaking a little. This shouldn’t affect him at all. _Remember it is not real, none of it is!_

“Don’t tell me things will be alright. I had to take a fucking sobering potion to even figure out that we were back home. There’s nothing you can say to not make this my fault. You could’ve ended up in St Mungo’s. You could’ve died and then I would’ve been all alo-… I would’ve been responsible!”

 _St Mungo’s_. The name sounds like it should mean something. Albus is still trying to make sense of Scorpius’ words, but failing miserably.

“What do you mean, you didn’t save me and you don’t know how we got home? Who did?”

“I don’t know. For fuck’s sake! I was stoned out of my fucking mind, alright? I can’t remember anything! If it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t’ve been hurt!” Albus hates hearing Scorpius sound so insecure and lost; he reaches out for his hand and this time Scorpius allows the touch. “I just… I feel so guilty. Don’t tell me it’s not my fault, because it is. If I hadn’t… If I’d been able to deal with things better… My father means everything to me and, I can’t… I’m so scared, Al.”

Albus knows that Scorpius is about to break down, but inside his mind, the words 'St Mungo’s' and 'father' have just encountered each other and he remembers what had been so urgent. Scorpius tries to hug him; he is trembling all over and it tears Albus’ insides right open when he sees the look on Scorpius’ face as he pushes him away.

“Oh Merlin! We’ve got to go to St Mungo’s right now! Your father was admitted earlier this evening. That’s the reason I was at that party at all. We’ve got to go right now!” 

Scorpius eyes are bright with fear. Albus is overcome with a sense of dread; if they hurry, there might just be enough time to say goodbye. He feels terrible. Scorpius might never be able to speak to his father again and it is all Albus’ fault, for trying to cure Draco with a potion he wasn’t sure of. They mustn’t hold out hope that they will make it in time. Instead of speaking again, he slides his long legs out of bed and takes hold of Scorpius, wrapping him in his arms entirely, because it looks like he is about to faint, and Apparates them straight to St Mungo’s.

***

Several hours have passed. Albus is sitting in a chair on the corridor outside Draco’s room. Both of them went inside hours ago, but Albus wanted to give father and son a little privacy, a chance to say goodbye. Which is how he finds himself outside the door, staring at the little device on the leather band around his wrist. It doesn’t chime; it just glows in a dull purple colour and has Albus more worried on Scorpius’ behalf than all those other times he went out and got pissed combined.

When they first arrived Albus had given the healers a collection of the potions he had made using some of his own blood plasma, which had seemed to help before. He hopes they still help, at least enough to give Scorpius and his father a little more time, which might mean everything. Albus looks down at his wrist again and has to swallow around a lump in his throat. Scorpius is not well; not well at all.

It is either very late or very early, depending on how you look at it, and the day’s events begin to take their toll on Albus. Despite the emotional turmoil, his eyes slowly grow heavy and he can feel himself nodding off, slumping on the chair. It is not long before he is fast asleep. He dreams of water, of blood magic and of blue angels with mechanical wings. When he wakes again, he doesn’t know what to make of the dream or what it means.

Albus doesn’t get the opportunity to ponder his dreams for long. Shortly after Albus wakes up Scorpius steps out of his father’s room, closing the door quietly behind him. Scorpius looks utterly defeated and the light that shone so brightly in him that it was almost blinding has simply gone out. His eyes are empty and Albus’ heart aches. Scorpius just keeps standing there, looking forlorn. Taking his hand feels like the most natural thing. Albus walks them both to the nearest Apparition point and takes them home.

The moment they returned home, Scorpius let go of Albus’ hand and the distance between them might as well be as vast as the space between galaxies. They don’t speak as they walk through their flat and for all he wants to, Albus cannot reach Scorpius now. He is too far away.

Albus assumes that this is it, that they will never talk of this again, and that somehow this is the end of everything. Scorpius eyes are dull, when he finally reacts to Albus, as he says good night and heads to the stairs to his own flat. Scorpius’ words bring Albus rushing back, and he crushes his best friend to his chest.

“He’s gone…”

Albus is holding him and stroking his back slowly. They just stand there awkwardly in the door to Scorpius’ bedroom. Scorpius is clinging to him as if he is all that anchors him to this reality; as if without his touch, Scorpius would cease to exist. And finally the tears come. Albus can feel them wetting his shirt and he is glad for them. He is glad for selfish reasons and he knows it. The tears mean that Scorpius needs him, needs someone to hold him, to be there for him. Albus’ treacherous little heart only craves a single thing more than this, a thing it cannot have. A love requited. That is why it gladly accepts Scorpius’ sorrow as substitute. 

They don’t speak bar a whispered, “Stay,” from Scorpius, and undress in silence. This time they are both covered by the same sheets and Albus doesn’t resist when Scorpius spoons him from behind, sliding arms around him and holding him close. They fall asleep like that, finding comfort in each other’s proximity.

An owl pecking at the window wakes them the next morning. The message it brings is expected, but it is still not welcome. 

Draco Malfoy has slipped into a coma he most likely will never awake from. 

Days and weeks of frantic research on Albus’ part follow this news. Scorpius stops drowning his sorrows in drugs and alcohol and locks himself in his workshop for days at a time. It might appear just as unhealthy as his earlier activities to an outside observer, but both Albus and Scorpius have never turned to conventional means to deal with their sorrows. All that matters to either of them is that they are productive, that they aren’t giving up, despite the inevitability of it all.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

**Scorpius Malfoy - Several Months ago**

The wind beat Scorpius’ hair around his head and pelted icy rain against his cheeks. He was glad to have taken the motorcycle. He wore his leather helmet, a warm scarf, and a pair of aviator goggles; without them he wouldn’t have been able to stay out in this weather for as long as he had. He had climbed the largest rock he could find in the vicinity in an attempt to get better reception on his _Portable Floo Communicator_ and to get away from the magical interference. He needed to talk to Albus. The readings he had taken had looked promising, but he didn’t know whether they were good enough. Besides, compared to the sophisticated devices Albus was working with back at the Manor, their field equipment was rather crude and wouldn’t pick up on the nuances they needed.

The connection was laden with static and some of the words from the other end were entirely swallowed up. Scorpius cursed and brushed the rain and wet hair from his forehead, while shouting into the receiver.

“What? Sorry, I can’t hear you properly, Al. Could you speak up?” Albus tried, but it didn’t really make a difference. Scorpius asked about the information that he had transmitted earlier.

“Yes… what do you mean the readings are wrong? Do you…” He paused to listen. Scorpius didn’t like what he was hearing, and just then a strong gust of wind hit him from the side and made him almost lose his footing on the craggy surface. His arms were cart-wheeling wildly in an attempt to regain his balance. Scorpius almost didn’t make it.

“Fuck, that was close! What?” he called into the device.

A loud growling roar could be heard from the bottom of the rock and Scorpius looked down to find himself face to face with a polar bear. Scorpius’ eyes flickered over to where his motorcycle stood on its stand then back to the polar bear. It would be impossible to make it over there before the polar bear could catch up with him. He was utterly fucked! The bear roared again, as if to agree with Scorpius’ assessment. The noises it made were loud enough to drown out whatever Albus was trying to say.

“Could you shut up? I’m trying to have a conversation over here,” Scorpius exploded, glaring at the animal in front of him.

“No, Al, I wasn’t talking to you. No, no, it’s alright.” Scorpius stuck one of his gloved fingers into his left ear and listened intently. “That sound? It’s a polar bear. Yup, really.” He couldn’t help but laugh at Albus’ incredulous tone. “On a large boulder actually. He’s not very pleased.”

Scorpius could just imagine Albus’ face, torn between amusement and worry as he listened to Scorpius tell his story. When he got home Albus would probably accuse him of being a trouble magnet, but Scorpius didn’t mind. He didn’t mind any of the scoldings he received from Albus; lately he even found himself looking forward to them with fondness. If someone had accused him of getting in trouble with Albus more often than was normal, he would deny it ferociously, which of course meant it was entirely true.

He could feel water running alongside the PFC and into the shell of his ear; he shuddered and shook the water off the device before holding it to his ear again. If only he could cast a water-repelling or umbrella charm, but they had all failed so far. Wild magic fields truly were utter shit! 

“Sorry, the weather is vile. I can hardly hear you. But you’re sure? So you’re saying I can come home? Great…” Scorpius listened again and wiped his hand across his face tiredly. Another failed mission and yet more time wasted on chasing after ghosts; even though Albus tried to keep it from him he knew that they were rapidly running out of it. He tried to keep the frustration he felt from his voice when he replied, but Albus as always picked up on it immediately.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later, thanks! Yes, non-Apparition-zone. Got it.” Scorpius snapped the PFC shut and shoved it into his pocket. “Can’t say that I’ll miss this place,” he said to himself.

Being unable to Apparate away from here or even over to his motorcycle was a problem. There was no way he was getting past the polar bear, who eyed him intently. Scorpius sighed. Just his luck.

“Well, looks like we’ll be here a while. Do you have any hobbies?”

***

It was over a day later, before Scorpius finally made it home. He was cold and soaked through and miserable and while at first he had admired the polar bear’s perseverance, after four hours and an uncountable number of failed heating charms, he had begun to resent the creature for it. He had been more than sorely tempted to simply off the beast with his pistol which would work even in magical hotspots – and also underwater, thank you very much! – so he could get out of this unpleasant patch of meteorological anomaly. But he hadn’t and wouldn’t, because despite everything Albus’ face when he found out that Scorpius had killed a polar bear because he was tired of waiting would have been unbearable. Albus had a way of finding out about these things. Scorpius had no idea how, but the man seemed to have a sixth sense for when Scorpius’ did something that he shouldn’t.

Albus was nowhere to be seen and Scorpius began to search for him. He walked with the distinct gait of someone who had been rained on quite liberally for far too long. One of the reasons he wanted to find Albus was so someone would hear him complain; there was no point to being in a foul mood if no one was there to witness it. That, of course, meant that Scorpius’ expression darkened with every minute that he didn’t find Albus. In the end he had to resort to a “Point Me” spell to find Albus, which led him to the library.

Albus lay sleeping on several opened tomes, his head cushioned on his arms and his face turned away from the candle which shed barely enough light to read by. Scorpius didn’t know why Albus insisted on only reading by candlelight in the library. It wasn’t as if any brighter source of light would endanger the books. Safety measures were implemented on all the shelves and if they had managed to keep out a five-year-old Scorpius Malfoy with his sticky hands covered in raspberry jam and breadcrumbs, they could protect the books from anything.

His best mate looked peaceful as he slept and Scorpius didn’t have the heart to wake him; instead he conjured a blanket and placed it carefully over Albus. When his gaze fell on Albus’ face, its unguarded beauty overwhelmed him. He didn’t know how long he stood there and stared, dripping onto the dusty library floor. Albus shifted slightly in his sleep, curling into the sudden warmth on the blanket. Light from the candle touched his face and Scorpius saw a single eyelash on Albus’ cheek and carefully leaned in to brush it away. When he was about to right himself, his gaze fell onto a small leather-bound notebook that contained line after line of Albus’ neat script. Overcome by curiosity, Scorpius took it and flipped through the last few entries. A chance to get such insight into what went on in Albus’ mind was not something he could pass up lightly. Pushing his guilt down determinedly, Scorpius began to read.

>   
> 

> _Thursday,_  
> 

> _I have retested the samples I have taken from Draco and I don’t know why all the tests I did came back negative. Even the more exotic ailments I have researched don’t quite fit his symptoms. I‘m beginning to get worried, because I have no idea what is happening to him. He spends most of his time sleeping these days. I am almost glad for it, because it means he doesn’t see how worried I am. Draco has always been so much to me. He has been my mentor and confidant and it hurts that I seem to be unable to help him; he and Scorpius are like family to me. Seeing him like this, so very vulnerable and frail, it breaks my heart._

> _I don’t know what is wrong with him and why his magical force is being slowly depleted. I only hope the readings Scorpius brings back will shed some light on that and lead to a breakthrough, because – and this is the most terrifying thing of all – I’m all out of ideas._  
> 

> _If I don’t find a cure, if he dies and it is my fault, I’ll lose everything._  
> 

Scorpius slowly put Albus’ diary down, his hands putting it back to where it had lain without a conscious thought. The short page he had read had revealed so much more than he had been expecting. His heart clenched painfully in his chest, as the words’ meaning began to fully sink in.

He felt torn between the knowledge that his father wasn’t getting better, but was actually worse, and the new found certainty that Albus so obviously had no concern for him, but felt a deep sense of affection towards his father. Scorpius would only ever be second choice to Albus over his father. It was more than he could bear.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

**Albus Severus Potter - Present Day**

The clutter is driving him mad. Piles of books everywhere - useless, the lot of them. In the background the wireless is on and someone is going on and on about some vigilante or hero of the people who saved some brats from drowning in the River Thames or some such drivel. They have named him “Aquarius” and if that is not the single most ridiculous and pretentious name ever, Albus doesn’t know what is. Except, perhaps, “Captain Spectacular”, but that is reserved for Scorpius alone, and only when he annoys the hell out of Albus.

There are phials and crushed herbs and blood samples covering every surface of his lab, some of it migrating down towards the floor. It is no use. None of the potions he has tried to make have worked on the ever shrinking samples of Draco’s blood.

Every time Albus checks the results under the microscope, Draco’s white blood cell count had gone down drastically after application of the potion. Even potions made using his own blood only slowed the process; they didn’t stop it entirely, like they had before. The triumph he had felt then, when he was convinced he had found a solution, had quickly turned sour. Albus had missed something vital and the guilt over being responsible for significantly lowering Draco’s chance of ever recovering bore him down. 

“Fuck!” Albus slams his fist on the table and enjoys the tiny moment of satisfaction when this causes a landslide of paper and ingredients from the table top to the floor. 

He is at his wits’ end; he needs room to breathe, to think. The calming influence of his lab is destroyed with the mess he has made during his research and nothing makes any fucking sense. Albus’ wand is in his hand before he can think about it and one of his cauldrons explodes with a resounding bang into a million tiny shards, most of them embedding themselves permanently in the wall behind his desk.

What he did was stupid, but it makes him feel a whole lot better. Having come to a decision, Albus flicks his wand and all the books and scrolls sort and stack themselves back onto the nearby shelves. He brushes everything else that is on his desk aside, not caring if the phials break as they topple to the floor. 

When everything is gone and the empty table stretches out before him, he casts another spell that makes the table grow so it is high enough for him to work standing up. A sheet of parchment and a single quill are the only things he almost reverently places on the wood.

Albus knows that he is too angry to think properly. Despite everything, or maybe because of it, he is convinced that he can solve this, _has_ to solve this, to make things right again. He needs room to think and not only inside his lab. Albus locks the door and turns the wireless off, the babble grating on his nerves. He conjures R.V. Williams’ _The Lark Ascending_ , playing it so loudly that it overwhelms his senses.

Pieces of rage drop away, like sand from a dune when it is assaulted by the tide; small parts of it disappear at first, followed by larger chunks. When the rage is gone his other emotions follow. Every single distraction falls away, everything that might draw his focus away from his task. Every thought, every outside influence, bar the sound of the lark’s flight. And then there is nothing left. Tabula Rasa. 

Albus opens his eyes and steps up to the raised table; a flick of his wand sets the quill onto the parchment. A second lowers the volume of the classical music. Eventually, he begins to speak.

“It’s a fact that the cause of Draco’s condition is the formerly dormant - and now active - Veela gene in his genetic make-up. Everything would indicate that at some point his body must have initiated a merging with another human being or humanoid creature. Considering the speed of his physical decline, the merging must have happened several months, but not more than half a year, ago.” Albus ponders this for a while, the quill stopping its scratching but hovering expectantly over the parchment. Nothing springs to mind and he continues with his next line of thought.

“I’ve tried my own blood, because of the merging that must have occurred with Scorpius. Erase that last bit.” The quill obediently passes over the last few words, vanishing them from the page. Albus feels his worries encroach on the space inside his head that he cleared so meticulously earlier. No, there is no time for this. “It’s evident that my blood sample worked. There are two possible reasons as to why: number one, because of my own merging, however that happened, or, number two, because of my blood-kinship with the second party of Draco’s merging.” 

Albus falls silent as he ponders the options. He had tried other samples including the fateful one, mostly banking on the second conclusion, but except for the volatile reaction to the last sample, they hadn’t had any effect whatsoever. Albus summons a book he has found to be less than helpful before, but he has just had an idea. It just might be possible…

Albus stands straight and unmoving but for the hand that keeps turning page after page, his pince-nez bringing each one into focus. Once he reaches the end of the paragraph he previously thought unimportant he slowly closes the book, smoothing his hand over the brittle cover reverently. But that would mean…

The book suggests that mergings can happen without either party being aware of it. This will happen under great emotional stress, or during a moment of serious injury or mortal peril for someone the Veela has a strong emotional connection with. A thusly initiated merging, especially in the latter case, would kick-start a process that would result in something the book called “The Healing Touch”. This still doesn’t explain the constant drain of Draco’s magical force. It also doesn’t explain what is happening to Draco’s immune system. Unless…

“It’s meant to go both ways!” Albus exclaims. He grabs another tome, clearly excited now, and quickly flips through the pages. “Yadda, yadda, yadda, ah, there it is!” Albus mumbles and then begins to read. “Hmmmmmm…” 

Albus ponders a little more. So, if he got this right, in a Veela merging or bonding ritual, there is an exchange of blood. It is not explained why it is necessary, but Albus assumes that it would facilitate a merging of magical forces and the first touch of blood would also kick-start the healing touch. The magical force that flows from the Veela has to go somewhere, though.

“If the healing touch starts an uncontrolled but steady flow of magic out of the Veela into the mate, that would explain where the energy vanishes to. Now, as far as I’ve been able to figure out, that’s what’s happening to Draco. But who’s the mate? If what happened to me is not relevant, the blood-kinship is still the right connection. I think…” Albus pauses and then grabs a scroll this time spreading it haphazardly over a free corner of the desk. There it is! _Blood kin can sustain the Veela for a while, should the merging not be consummated and the exchange go uncompleted._

He has tried other samples and they haven’t worked. Scorpius’ hadn’t worked and neither had Albus’ siblings’ or his mother’s. Albus cringes as he is reminded of how wrong that one went. So far only his own blood sample seems to have had any impact at all, but that would mean there is only one more choice left to explore. Suddenly, Albus begins to wonder why his parents broke up. It would explain so much if…

“Oh, dear Merlin! The vanishing magic! I know where it went!” 

Albus grabs the scroll from the table on his way out, ignoring that the quill has dutifully written down every single thing he uttered. He has to find Scorpius, because now he knows where they need to go.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

**Scorpius Malfoy - Several Months ago**

Scorpius groaned and stretched. They had been walking for hours and even though he was in peak condition, the thin air was starting to get to him.

“Do you think it’s still far?” he asked.

“Should be just over the crest of that mountain,” Albus replied.

Scorpius righted himself, ignoring the pain in his lower back.

“That’s what you said half an hour ago. Why couldn’t we take the motorcycle again?”

“Because we’ve already entered a field of very dense wild magic. Who knows how the machine would react to that? I don’t want to be that high up in the air and under the constant threat of the engines failing, especially if there is no guarantee that any cushioning charms would work either,” Albus said, sounding exasperated.

Scorpius huffed. He didn’t pout, no sir, he huffed in a dignified fashion. There really was no need to rub it in. Scorpius usually kept his mouth shut - alright, he didn’t - but that wasn’t the point. He was quickly running out of patience. All this travelling without any magical help was eating up time they didn’t have. They had been to the Easter Islands and then to Jordan to explore what remained of Petra with no success. And now they were in the Himalayas, trying to find one small cave that supposedly contained the guardian of some information or other that Albus had said was very likely to contain a cure, or at least instructions on how to brew a potion that was the ultimate cure for all ailments.

Whether or not there even was a cure to his father’s condition had ceased to matter to Scorpius. He didn’t know what to believe or what to hope for any more. He was tired all the time, on the brink of exhaustion even, while Albus was burning the midnight oil and spending all of his time in the lab or in the library, obsessing over his research. He only hoped he wasn’t coming down with the same thing his father was, but the one time Scorpius had mentioned his worries to Albus he had dismissed them as being completely unfounded. Again, it didn’t matter if Albus was lying or not; Scorpius chose to believe him either way.

The two of them eventually crested the hill and the view that opened up in front of them was so breathtakingly beautiful that it even managed to penetrate Scorpius’ stupor. In front of them stretched a field of clouds. As far as the eye could see were white shapes that looked solid enough to walk on. Here and there the cragged tops of smaller mountains poked through, some of them lined with trees and others covered in snow. The sun shone brightly down, illuminating the clouds and crowning the mountains with its golden light, making it seem as if they were alight with divine fire.

Albus and Scorpius stood there for a long time, mesmerised by the beauty that just kept unfolding in front of them. Slowly the wind picked up, shifting the clouds this way and that, inviting the gaze to wander and sometimes penetrate the cloud cover to look at the land below.

Eventually, Scorpius became aware of the crackling of a line of tiny colourful flags on their left. The pass they had been looking for was just ahead. He gave Albus a short nudge and, feeling a bit wistful, they both turned towards the pass to continue their journey. Walking became easier as they followed the path supposedly leading towards civilisation. Soon they could see houses left and right on the wayside, but they had all fallen into disrepair a long time ago. The entire place evoked a sense of dread and death, as if something bad had happened here in the past. There was also the feeling of unimaginable age permeating every hewn stone, every threshold that hadn’t been crossed in generations. History had taken place here and Scorpius began to wonder whether anyone alive today even remembered what exactly had happened.

They reached the end of the long stretched village, the houses slowly vanishing from view and still they kept walking. When Scorpius was ready to ask Albus whether he knew what he was doing, the man stopped right in front of him. If he hadn’t paid attention at right that moment, Scorpius would have walked into him, toppling them both into a nearby abyss.

“Why are we stopping?”

“Don’t you feel that, Scorpius?”

“Feel what?”

Albus took Scorpius’ arm and pulled him closer until they stood side by side. He held onto Scorpius by his wrist and held it out to where he had been feeling the air himself only a moment ago.

“There, can’t you feel that?”

And sure enough, now that he had it pointed out to him, Scorpius could feel the tiny hairs on the back of his hand rising as if they were exposed to a slight electrostatic current. This could only mean one thing; they were standing just outside of some very powerful, very old, magical wards. These wards must have been up for centuries and still they were strong enough that even being close to them was enough to make Scorpius’ skin tingle.

“I think this is an illusion,” Albus said excitedly, pointing at the gaping abyss in front of them.

“I hope you’re right. If not, we’re dead!”

Albus crouched down in front of the abyss, leaning slightly forward, patting the floor with his hand and feeling his way towards the sheer fall on the other side. Scorpius could see Albus' fingers pass through what looked like a rocky cliff that supposedly was several hundred metres below them. Just as he turned back to Scorpius, smiling brightly, some unseen force began to pull on his arm, making him topple over straight into the abyss. Scorpius could still hear Albus’ cries for help, but he couldn’t see him, couldn’t even make out his smashed remains at the bottom of the ravine. Something was definitely wrong here. Scuffling noises that shouldn’t even be there echoed over to Scorpius and for a moment he was tempted to just jump in after Albus, but something, some primal instinct, held him back. It seemed like an eternity until Albus' voice could be heard again. 

“It’s okay. I’m alright. It’s all plain; you can just walk through it.”

“Are you sure? Why where you calling for help then?”

“I think there’s some kind of pull here. I’m assuming it’ll be much more pleasant if one is actually standing up and not being dragged along the floor like me. Care to test my theory?”

Scorpius sighed and tentatively took a step forward, brushing along the rim of the path in front of him. He felt his way over to what still looked like a several hundred metre deep ravine. He could see his boot slowly disappeared through what truly was an illusion, because his footing was true. It was mesmerising to watch it disappear and reappear until Scorpius also felt the tugging sensation that had dragged Albus away earlier.

It was a terrifying sensation to be dragged forward, because all he could see was the sheer fall on the other side. It didn’t matter that he could see himself disappear through the illusion, he still didn’t know where he was going and that uncertainty gnawed away at his confidence. When Scorpius’ head disappeared through the illusion he couldn’t make out much more; he was slowly being pulled, as if guided by invisible hands, through an odd foggy twilight where distances had ceased to matter. It was impossible to tell how much time passed before he saw a dark shape materialise out of the fog. It was Albus.

Considering how much time it had taken for Albus to say that he was alright, it couldn’t have taken Scorpius more than five minutes to get to where he was, but, if asked, he would have sworn that it had taken hours, if not days.

There was no sign of the sun or even the sky. Everything around them was hidden in a thick grey fog that played tricks on their minds, making them both jump when they thought they had seen something move.

“Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“I thought I heard something.”

And just when Scorpius was about to scold Albus for pulling his leg, he heard it, too. A clicking noise as if of giant clawed paws and a deep growl that made the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. He tried to stare into the fog to make out what it was that was stalking them in the mist, but it was impossible to see.

“This is not good.”

“I-I think we should…”

“Yes, absolutely!” Albus said with conviction, already on the move.

They stuck together closely, walking more quickly. Both drew their pistols, covering each other as they aimed into the mist, trying to minimise the target they were presenting. Scorpius’ fingers itched for his wand, but he knew that the odds of actually getting the right spell to go off as opposed to setting himself on fire by accident were definitely not in his favour.

If Scorpius’ instincts were right - and they usually were - the creature that was stalking them was responsible for the abandoned village they had just walked through. He only hoped they weren’t far from the entrance to the cavern they were actually looking for. The fact that it was still guarded by whatever creature was prowling in the fog was a good sign. They might actually be able to find what they were looking for.

To their left the sheer face of a cliff rose up high enough for them to be unable to see where it ended. They moved towards it so they had one side less to defend should the creature attack. Scorpius ran his hand over the stone; it was smooth to the touch, polished by centuries of wind and erosion.

The growling grew in volume and the click-click of claws on rock had definitely come closer by the time an enormous archway opened up beside them. First Albus and then Scorpius slipped inside carefully. The rotting remains of a thick wooden door barred the entrance to the tunnels beyond. Scorpius covered Albus, while he climbed over the door and into the tunnel. Once Albus was safely inside he did the same for Scorpius. The wood of the door felt wet and spongy beneath his fingers, like sick decaying tissue, and was warm to the touch. Part of Scorpius wondered whether they were climbing into the bowels of some giant, living beast.

It was too dark to see and they couldn’t use their wands to illuminate the space around them, so Albus lit one of the torches they had brought for just such an occasion. Just when Scorpius held his own torch to Albus’ to light it and they were at their most vulnerable, the predator howled and cleared the wreckage in the doorway in one smooth jump.

Despite the flickering torchlight, they still couldn’t see what was following them. The sound of their running steps echoed around them, drowning out the noise the invisible creature made as it charged. They were running so fast that it seemed like the light from the torches couldn’t keep up with them. The constant light and dark made it impossible to see where they were going, but they kept running anyway, the tunnel and the creature herding them forward towards the unknown.

Scorpius aimed his pistol behind him as he ran, hoping to hit the creature. The booming sound as he repeatedly discharged it was deafening. This was followed by the distinct twanging noise of the bullets ricocheting of the narrow tunnel walls. Behind him, Scorpius could hear the creature growling and hissing. He looked back, his eyes wide, expecting to be faced with some demonic feline guardian of this mountain cavern, but there was nothing. 

Because he was looking the other way, he barrelled into Albus full force; Albus had stopped at the top of a steep slope where the corridor cut off abruptly. The force of Scorpius’ impact pushed them both over the edge and the floor and ceiling did several somersaults before they came to rest at the bottom of the slope, beat up by rocks, covered in dust and bleeding from several small cuts. 

Scorpius came to when one of the smaller rocks tumbled down the slope and hit him square in the face. All around them small landslides of rocks still tumbled down and the air was filled with dust. Beside him Albus was groaning and cursing, while Scorpius rubbed his face, trying to get the grime and blood off it and only managing to create a mixture that caked his face and hands and would dry on them like a mask if they didn’t find a source of water in the near future. Scorpius listened intently, trying to make out the creature’s distinct noises, but there was nothing. Maybe it hadn’t dared to climb down the slope itself or it had thought Scorpius and Albus were dead and no longer a threat to its territory. They would probably never find out.

“Albus, are you alright?”

“Yes, you?”

“I think so. Nothing seems to be broken.”

“I’m only bruised and I think I might have sprained my wrist.”

Scorpius crawled over to his friend on all fours, so he wouldn’t step on him when he got up.

“Come on, we’ve got to keep moving,” Scorpius said, hoisting Albus up.

He dug around in his pockets for the shrunken spare torches and lighters. After a moment of panic his hand closed around them. It didn’t take long to for them to light two torches and realise the hopelessness of their situation. The slope they had fallen down was easily a kilometre in length and from the boulders and rocks that still hadn’t stopped shifting they could easily tell that any attempts at climbing it wouldn’t only be difficult, but probably suicidal.

Scorpius looked around himself for his pistol but couldn’t find it anywhere. It was probably buried somewhere near them, but out of reach all the same. He sighed dejectedly; it had been one of his favourites, one of the first pistols his father had given him.

The cavern around them was huge and the light cast by their torches wasn’t nearly strong enough to illuminate even a tenth of it. They walked for over an hour without getting far enough across it to even make out the far wall. The steady ticking noise of one of Scorpius’ gadgets that was safely tucked away in the pocket of his waistcoat was their constant companion and Scorpius found it strangely soothing. It was one of the simplest things he had made to measure time. It wasn’t even a clock, it merely ticked away, allowing them to discern how much time had passed.

They paused for the first time after three hours of constant walking. They rested, leaning against one of the many boulders strewn across the cavern floor. It felt a bit as if they were crossing a giant board that was covered in discarded playing pieces. Scorpius closed his eyes and let the exhaustion wash over him. He didn’t notice when he dozed off, but awoke with a start when Albus shook him gently.

“We should go.”

Four more hours had passed in silence, but time had ceased to matter somewhere around the second hour after they had resumed walking. The boulders had made way for what had formerly been stalactites but now looked like giant pillars holding up the ceiling. 

In between the pillars and sometimes half-buried under several layers of limestone were skeletons wearing ancient armour and killed by bizarre looking weapons. Not all of them were human or even humanoid.

The further they got, the stranger things became. Here and there what could only be stone-age cave paintings and handprints decorated the walls, that had come closer and closer, funnelling Albus and Scorpius towards Merlin knew what. Eventually, they narrowed further to the end, which was a large carved gateway, surrounded by the ruins of houses that had been hewn into the walls of the cavern. They passed all of them until they reached a large portal.

Three doors were in front of them, their arches covered in beautiful detailed carvings. At the bottom were humanoid shapes, looking up and above them winged creatures whose arms were outstretched towards the shapes at the bottom. They were handing down scrolls, torches, plants and tools. Led by the connotation some of these items still had today, Scorpius supposed they must represent things such as language, art, agriculture and fire.

The door on the left was already wide open and all kinds of treasure covered the doorstep and flowed out onto the cavern floor like a landslide of immeasurable wealth. Scorpius ignored that one. The door on the right wouldn’t open at all, which only left the one in the middle. Albus carefully pulled it open while Scorpius held his flickering torch high above their heads to illuminate what lay beyond. What they found was anticlimactic to say the least.

The door opened onto a stone wall, with two small alcoves, each of which contained a small phial. Scorpius carefully reached in and before Albus could stop him, took one of them. There was a loud crack and then what had seemed like solid rock spun in place, granting them a glance of what lay beyond, before it displayed the two alcoves again. Albus took the phial from Scorpius and examined it. Slowly a series of glyphs began to glow on its surface.

“What does it say?” Scorpius asked.

“I don’t know; hand me the translation tool.”

Scorpius handed it over and Albus waved it over the phial several times before replying.

“It says: to go forth you are faced with a choice. One of these phials will make you weak, will make you vulnerable, will make you dependant on your…” Albus paused and stared intently at the writing. “Sorry, that glyph didn’t translate, it must be too old a term to have an expression in English. The writing speaks of a great sacrifice that one of us has to make to be able to continue. One of us will be weak and will have to surrender himself to the other. The bottom line is this. We each have to drink one phial, and it’ll make one of us weak and dependant on the other. Otherwise we cannot pass.”

“That sounds pretty far-fetched to me. Let’s try this differently. Al, take the other phial.”

Albus did so and the wall spun again, but stopped suddenly, leaving just enough space on its right and left for one person to walk through.

“Shall we go on three?”

Albus nodded.

“Okay, one, two, three.”

They both stepped forward and immediately encountered a force field so strong they fell back on their arses as they got pushed away.

“I suppose this means we have to do what it says on the tin.” Scorpius suddenly grinned impishly. “To your health,” he toasted towards Albus and downed his phial in one go.

“Scorpius, don’t!” But Albus’ cry was too late.

“F-fuck!” Scorpius moaned as he felt immediately as if his insides had been lit on fire and began to squirm. Albus hurried over, but Scorpius waved him away. “Drink yours, quickly. Obviously I’m the one who’s got to make the sacrifice. Which…ah…seems only fitting, considering we’re doing this for my father.”

Scorpius didn’t pay attention to whether Albus did as he had asked, because the pain was becoming too intense to handle. He slowly sank to his knees, clutching his stomach. He was still glad, despite the pain, that he had received this phial and not Albus. At least his sacrifice had been worth one thing, he had kept Albus safe and in this moment right here, as he stood on death’s doorstep, that was all that mattered. 

The next thing he became aware of was Albus hoisting him bodily upward and forward. He tried to help, but probably only made it harder for the other man. As soon as they had cleared the portal, which Scorpius could barely make out, he passed out again, missing out on most of the shouting and accusations directed at him.

***

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he came to. Albus was silent, so it must have been quite a bit later. Scorpius carefully sat up, thinking that it was weird that while he could smell the tarry scent of the torch, it was still too dark to see. Maybe it had gone out.

“Al.”

“So you survived then, you selfish prick.” Albus only sounded tired and resigned, not angry, like he pretended to be.

“Al…”

“What? Do you expect some reward for behaving like a complete asshat? Idiocy in situations like ours is only ever rewarded with either serious bodily harm or death! What do you expect me to say? That I’m happy to see you writhing on the floor in pain, that I want you to sacrifice your life for me? How could I be happy about any of those things when they’re completely unnecessary?”

“Albus, I-I think…” Scorpius didn’t dare say it out loud, but he knew he had to. There was one way to explain why it was so dark, why he felt so strange, and if he said it out loud and Albus proved him wrong it would mean there was a tiny glimmer of hope. He leant over to where he had heard Albus’ voice and began groping for his friend in the darkness. When he finally found his arm, he clung to it, like a lifeline. “Albus, I think… I think I might be blind.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

**Albus Severus Potter - Present Day**

The entrance hall of St Mungo’s is like every other hospital’s the world over. It is sort of clean, sort of modern in its decorations and filled with people who would rather be anywhere but there. There is a certain sense of urgency about everything going on here and Albus Potter on his mobile – or what passes for that in the wizarding world since Malfoy Industries released their PFC – is no exception.

“I don’t care if you say it’s impossible to ship out on such short notice, John. You’re a wizard, make it happen!” Albus is speaking fast, releasing his pent-up frustration on the head of Malfoy Industries’ cargo and shipping division, despite his best intentions. “Yes, to Soton. No, I…” Albus’ fingers drum an impatient rhythm on the information desk. Picking up his agitated pacing again, he continues. “Listen, I don’t care how you make it happen; you are paid to have everything ready at a moment’s notice. No! I won’t listen! Send the crates to Soton and inform Johanna as well. No, I’ll tell her the details myself. Just send her an owl so she knows what’s going on. Now stop wasting my time and get to work.”

Some bystanders give Albus a weird look, because he has shouted the last words, before cutting off John’s protest by simply ending the call, and he realises that he must look slightly deranged. There is one more call to make before he can return to the Manor to pack up the rest of their equipment. Albus will have to pack for both of them, because Scorpius is spending every free minute by his father’s bedside. They have decided on a plan of action which will take them away from England and cannot predict when they will return.

Instead of distressing the other patrons in the lobby further, Albus steps out into the cool spring air. He walks through the magically created park, looking at the dead leaves and wrapping his thin jacket tightly around himself. The ground is hard and the gravel crunches beneath his feet with every step as he tries to calm himself. When walking doesn’t help, Albus stops by a bench, gets out a packet of cigarettes and shakes a single fag out of it. He puts it between his lips with shaking hands and lights it negligently with his wand before taking several greedy drags. Scorpius doesn’t like it when he smokes so Albus doesn’t usually do it, but right now he is smoking for Scorpius’ sake as much as his own peace of mind.

  


[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/wantsunicorns/pic/00002es4/)

  


The cigarette works its magic on his nerves and Albus finally casts a heating charm on his clothes before getting the PFC out again and reconnecting to St Mungo’s Floo network.

“Johanna? It’s Albus. Haven’t spoken to you in a while, everything alright? Uh-huh! Good to hear.” Albus nods along once or twice as Johanna brings him up to date on what’s been going on in her life. 

“Listen, I’ve got a favour to ask. Did you receive John’s owl? Yes? Great!” Albus laughs as he hears her reply. “Yes, you’ve got that one right, he’s one whiny tosser! I’m assuming you know what I’m calling about? Yes, right. When do you think you could have the Nautilus ready to go?” He listens for a while before replying again.

“Does that really matter? Oh, alright, Iceland. Not a problem? Great to hear. Now, I’ll be over in a few hours, helping with the cargo and so on. I’ll see you then. Take care! It was great talking to you. Ha-ha, yes, it’s the three of us again, I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that and he says ‘hi’ back. See you later. Cheers.”

Albus cuts the connection and can’t help but smile. Johanna might scare the shit out of him sometimes, but she is one of the fiercest captains he knows and her forward nature never fails to make him feel better. Now he only needs to inform Scorpius that they are setting out tonight, if John can get over himself and actually do his job, that is. But Albus is confident; John is scared shitless of him and would probably rather cut off his own hand than be late on delivering the crates of their belongings to Soton Harbour.

***

Albus breathes in the salty air as he steps out onto the quay. The sea beats steadily against the solid rock foundation and the cold wind carries the cries of the seagulls easily over the water. The tide is just about high and despite the urgency of their situation, Albus takes a moment to appreciate his surroundings. He turns his face into the wind, tasting its tangy, salty flavour on his tongue and smiles. The sunlight breaks through the overcast skies and lights up the horizon with dozens of rays of light, grazing over the never ceasing up and down of the water beneath them. In this moment, right here, despite everything that weighs him down, he is happy.

He knows it won’t last, and just then the wind shifts the clouds again, cutting off the sunlight and plunging the day back into its gloomy grey. In the distance he can make out a flock of seagulls swarming a cutter that is pulling up its nets, overflowing with the fruit of the ocean. Like vultures, they hover over the small ship, repeatedly diving down, clamouring for food. 

It is time, Albus decides. He pulls up the collar of his long coat and buttons it. His short reprieve is over and he already misses it. With a sigh he turns around and makes his way back to where the cargo is being unloaded onto the quay. Johanna is already waiting for him.

“It’s a nice day for travelling,” she says, a bit wistfully. 

Albus knows that to Johanna, any day is a great day for travelling. Nobody really knows what she does when they are not at sea or they have no need of the Nautilus. Privately Albus and Scorpius joke that she is the scourge of the seven seas and a mighty pirate queen out for booty and adventure. Johanna the Viking Queen, they call her and if they are completely honest with themselves, she terrifies them just a bit. Albus’ eyes search for the Nautilus and when they find her, he cannot quite suppress a giddy smile. Johanna lightly punches him in the arm, making him smile even more.

“I see the travel-bug has you in its clutches once more,” she declares.

“I suppose,” Albus says. He grins and evades her next punch, which he knows will be harder than the first. She laughs at his antics. When Johanna laughs, she laughs with her whole body; her head is thrown back and her entire frame shakes as bouts of laughter tumble from her lips. It is the best kind of laugh, the kind that is contagious. Albus cannot help himself, he starts laughing as well. It is liberating and finally he can feel some of the strain drain away; he knows it won’t be coming back. He turns back to look at her.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I know,” she replies, but she says it in a way that means “I’ve missed you, too.”

They walk towards the Nautilus in companionable silence, the people responsible for their cargo levitating it after them at a respectful distance. When they stop, he puts on his pince-nez and a pair of strange looking gloves. Albus then takes out a small wooden box and opens the lid. Inside is a small round device, consisting of a thick entirely translucent crystal hoisted on four small stands. 

Albus takes it out and places it carefully on the first box; he waves his wand over the crystal only once and immediately the sound of whirring and clicking clockwork can be heard as springs uncoil and cogs turn. Four magnifying lenses slowly ascend from below the crystal and the device chimes once, indicating that it is ready to be used. Albus passes his wand over the crystal once more. Following the smooth motion the centre of the crystal lights up and the light is bundled by the four lenses. An image forms in the air in front of them, depicting the inside of the crate in detail, a list of all the items inside scrolling past on the side.

With every flick and wave of Albus’ wand the contents of the crate move through the projection one by one. Some are zoomed in on with the help of his gloves as he makes sure they are stored correctly, then he quickly moves on to the next item. Things go smoothly with Albus scanning and Johanna supervising the loading of the crates, while the winches croak and the rope sings in the wind. Albus has mentally checked off every item on the list that they will need for their trip, when they reach the last crate. The crate looks exactly like the others, but technically it shouldn’t be there. Only the highest setting on the device reveals what is stored inside and even then, all he can make out are ghostly outlines. 

The mystery crate contains all sorts of weird things that Albus is unable to identify and he is starting to wonder why Scorpius kept its existence as well as its contents a secret. The image projected slowly becomes hazy and the last thing he can make out, before the image fizzles out completely and the device shuts down, is what can only be a pair of folded mechanical wings. _But that is impossible, right?_

He must have been mistaken, he decides. Scorpius probably packed some extra canvas so they can build a shelter, in case their overland trek takes them longer than they anticipated. Shaking his head to clear away the ridiculous notion, he taps the gadget with his wand and it folds in on itself. It is the work of a moment for him to put it back in its case, shrink it and let it slide back into his coat pocket. Albus steps back from the crate and gives Johanna a ‘thumbs up’. Despite his earlier resolution, he cannot quite shake the sense of unease as the crate rises into the air and passes over him. Albus suppresses an involuntary shudder and then makes his way up the gangway to prepare their cabins for the journey, putting his pince-nez back into its case while he walks.

***

The loading of the crates and Scorpius’ motorcycle takes longer than they had anticipated and it is unlikely that they will be able to cast off before the sun goes down. Albus isn’t sure whether he welcomes the notion of travelling the first leg of their journey at night. It is not, as many might think, because of the increased danger, but rather because he loves the sight of the coast getting smaller and smaller in the distance. Of sometimes catching sight of lighthouses and the coastline as it rushes by. The sense of adventure, of hope and heading for new horizons, is what will be missing from their departure. Despite the serious nature of their endeavour, Albus finds that he is in high spirits. Part of him cannot wait to be out on the open sea again and the salty tasting wind that is ruffling his hair is enough to make him rejoice.

One of the things that had drawn him to Scorpius and his exploits had always been the sense of utter freedom that he associated with them, the sense of everything being possible and all things new. Every time they had set out in the past, he had been overcome with a sense of wonder at the endless possibilities of what they might find and be able to bring back. Even now he knows that he will never be able to give it up, not for anything in this world. Not even with the knowledge that this will in no way help to get rid of his unhealthy, artificially induced, unrequited love.

Albus is back out on the quay, surrounded by the tangy smell that ports all over the world share. The wind has picked up and its salty gusts beat Albus’ coat about, as if he had sprouted wings. He digs into his waistcoat pocket and takes out the watch that is fixed to it on a slim golden chain. He presses the small button at the top once and the lid springs open, revealing the watch’s face. He presses it again and it looks like the face spins in place, before displaying an entirely new time. One hour until sunset, he realises and snaps the lid shut.

Scorpius is late, and that has him worried more than he is willing to admit. What if the potions he has supplied have ceased working completely? What if Draco’s condition has deteriorated and Scorpius is choosing to stay behind? Albus knows that Draco’s only chance at recovery lies in the success of their endeavour. It is already off to a bad start and they haven’t even left the harbour yet.

The sky is growing ever darker, but it is late enough in the day that one without seafaring experience cannot tell whether it is the encroaching night or a storm brewing just beyond the horizon. Albus is hoping for the first, but expecting the latter, considering the sickly yellow line separating the clouds from the water.

He is startled by a loud crack beside him as Scorpius appears.

“You’re late,” Albus states matter-of-factly in favour of a greeting.

“I know.” Scorpius’ reply is short. Without another word he heads for the gangway and is halfway up before Albus can catch up with him. Albus grabs the sleeve of Scorpius’ coat, holding him back.

“Hey, everything alright with you?”

Scorpius looks pointedly at where Albus is holding on to him. His entire demeanour is cool, abrasive even, and Albus finds himself shying away without meaning to, letting go of Scorpius’ coat.

“Why shouldn’t it be?” he replies, before stalking off below deck.

Albus is worried about Scorpius. He has not been the same since the night of the party. Sometimes Albus thinks that Scorpius is afraid of his touch and then unexpectedly Scorpius is so fierce and all up in his face over some tiny matter that he finds himself shrinking away. He doesn’t know what changed, but something has and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

The railing is cold beneath his hands as he holds on to it, staring at the wide open sea and trying to figure out where he went wrong. 

“Cast off!”

Johanna’s first mate shouts and the hawsers are thrown off the quay and winched up to the ship. The giddiness at the thought of being at sea again is dulled by his sense of loneliness. It used to be him and Scorpius standing out there together, watching the coast grow ever smaller and enjoying their first step into an entirely new adventure. This time it is only Albus, and Scorpius has probably locked himself away in his cabin, obsessing over some invention or other that Albus is not allowed to know about. Not anymore at any rate. 

They used to share everything. 

Even now he can picture Scorpius’ face when he has come up with yet another genius invention and needs someone to show it to. That childish sense of excitement and his almost vital need to share the moment of exuberance with his best friend were what had made Albus fall in love with him in the first place.

Albus knows that he needs to be an adult about this, somehow get over it and move on, but it seems to become harder every time he tries. Of all the people in his life, Scorpius is the one that always gets under his skin like no other. To be left out in the cold like this with no one to turn to, is unbearable.

Around him night falls and still he doesn’t go inside. Below his feet the steam-powered heart of the Nautilus steadily beats away, carrying them towards their destination without faltering. He doesn’t know whether he wants this journey to be over already or last until the end of time. The wind has grown cold and is carrying heavy raindrops with it, forcing everyone to seek shelter below decks. Albus endures the elements; he needs to feel anything but the roaring abyss of emptiness inside of him. It doesn’t seem to matter that what he feels inside is just what his artificially oxytocin-stimulated brain makes him feel because of Scorpius’ proximity. If there was someone else that Albus could love, he knows he would try, but there never is. There is but one for him and he knows it.

Albus shrinks back when a hand gently squeezes his shoulder. He can feel the warmth radiating off it through the thick, soaked-through fabric of his coat and shirt.

“You’re going to catch your death out here, Albus. You should go inside.”

Albus doesn’t want to go inside; he wants to stay out here like a petulant child and show everyone, most of all that stupid bastard below deck, just how much he is hurting. Johanna doesn’t speak for a while. She just stands there, a solid warm presence beside him, looking over the wind and rain-swept ocean. After what feels like an eternity, Albus finally finds it in himself to speak.

“I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Her arms come around his waist from behind, and she rests her chin on his shoulder, holding him tight. Albus hates himself for how much he wishes it was Scorpius. It requires a conscious effort on his part to not stiffen in her embrace, but let himself be comforted instead. They stand there in silence for a long time. Two human beings, facing the oncoming storm, wishing for the strength and the ability to fix that which has been broken.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

**Scorpius Malfoy - Several Months ago**

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Al, while I can’t see you, I can certainly hear your clothes rustle and for some reason I can smell your hands. They smell like singed hair.”

“I just don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?” Scorpius asked feeling annoyed. He was blind. What was to be misunderstood about that?

“Your pupils. They react to the light of the torch, but you say you can’t see anything. According to everything I know you should be able to see perfectly well.”

“Well, damn it, Al, I can’t! I bloody well can’t see a thing and it’s fucking annoying!”

Albus cleared his throat awkwardly. “Do you want us to talk about something else?” The weight of his warm hand settled reassuringly onto Scorpius’ forearm. He nodded.

“What’s done is done,” Scorpius said swallowing his own bitterness. He had known there would be a sacrifice and he had hoped that it would be his and not Albus’. The anguish he could hear in Albus’ voice, though, was more than he could bear. In his attempt to spare himself grief, Scorpius had outsmarted himself, because the only thing worse to him was the grief of someone he cared for so deeply.

“Alright, let me help you up.”

“Thanks,” Scorpius said, after he had allowed Albus to pull him upright. “What now?”

“We should keep going. If what happened so far is any indication, we can’t stay here.”

“Okay,” Scorpius groaned. “Give me your arm.”

“What?”

“Al, I’m blind. I don’t have a cane or guide dog that can stop me from walking into things, so it’s going to have to be you.”

It took a while before they got used to it, but their first stumbling steps turned into shuffling steps and eventually became the sort of walk commonly found among mates walking home from the pub. Scorpius’ arm was slung around Albus’ shoulder while Albus’ arm was supporting him around his waist. The warmth of the contact calmed Scorpius and after a while, when he had figured out that keeping his eyes closed was much less terrifying because he could pretend things were okay, their steps became faster and more sure. Scorpius realised that he trusted Albus, trusted him implicitly and with his life. Even if he was to be blind for the rest of his life – and this was probably a bit selfish – Scorpius didn’t want to spend his life with anyone else. They would have to talk about this and soon, but now was not the right time. It never seemed to be. Scorpius shook his head and sighed. Albus stopped immediately, his hand on Scorpius’ chest. Scorpius could imagine the look on his face, a mixture of compassion and worry.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just thinking about stuff.”

Albus kept quiet, probably hoping he would go on. Scorpius was just about to, when there was suddenly a flicker of light. He winced and almost jerked out of Albus’ grasp.

“Bloody hell!”

“What, what is it?”

And there it was again, a streak of bright green-white light. Scorpius could feel the brush of air against his skin as it passed and Albus shivered against him.

“Did you see that?”

“See what? Scorpius, this is not funny!”

“Just there, I thought I saw… there it is again.”

“There is nothing, it’s only some air current.” Albus stopped talking and exhaled shakily. “Alright, it’s a very cold air current; my breath is fogging in front of my face.”

A larger spot of light appeared and raced towards them. This couldn’t be good.

“Down, Albus, get down!” Scorpius shouted, throwing himself to the floor and trying to take Albus with him, without success.

“You’re mad, Scorpius, there’s…” and then the light barrelled into where Albus was standing. He gasped and shouted as it hit him. His breath and voice were suddenly much closer then only a moment ago when he fell to his knees and crumbled into a limp heap on top of Scorpius.

“Are you alright?”

Albus stayed quiet for a long time, prompting Scorpius to repeat his question.

“Yeah, I think so. Fuck, that hurt!”

“Do you think you can walk?”

“Yes, I should be fine. There seems to be a paralytic element to whatever it was that hit me, but it’s beginning to wear off.”

“Serves you right for not listening to me,” Scorpius said under his breath, after Albus helped him up again. The man chuckled and clapped him on the back.

“If I’d listened to you every time, we’d both be dead a million times over already. However, in this case, I shall be led by your precious indispensable guidance.” The gentle squeeze of Albus’ hand on Scorpius shoulder took the sting out of the words and his face broke into a smile.

“Brilliant, you manoeuvre us around the obstacles I can’t see and get your arse down, when I tell you to. Deal?”

“Deal!”

It worked surprisingly well. They had assumed the same positions as before, Albus navigating them forward and around whatever was in their way and Scorpius pushed them to the side or down, whenever another of those glowing spheres or whatever they were rushed towards them. They almost behaved as if they were alive. The air grew steadily colder which only increased the feeling of dread in Scorpius’ stomach. If the cold was in any way related to the creatures this was a very bad sign. 

Scorpius made the mistake of turning his face up to where he assumed the ceiling was once and could see dozens of the glowing things hovering there. They were slowly drifting back and forth, some of them drifting up and down and through each other. Scorpius prayed that he and Albus would not disturb them. No amount of being able to see them would make them less deadly if they decided to come at them in large numbers.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m just tired. Must be the potion,” Scorpius said. Sharing his fears would only freak Albus out and rightfully so. It was better to see where the spheres were and fear them, than to constantly imagine they were everywhere, even though they actually weren’t.

Eventually their walk slowed to a crawl, because the spheres were everywhere, not just above them, but between them, hovering in the air like bizarre balloons. Walking past them made the hair on Scorpius skin stand on end. They hadn’t spoken in over half an hour, always taking a few steps and stopping as a sphere drifted by. The spheres behaved like a strange kind of jelly fish, thriving in air instead of water. If one followed that thought and took into account the fact their touch had a paralytic effect, there was only one possible conclusion: they fed the same way, deep sea jellyfish would, devouring their prey alive. Scorpius felt his skin crawl and was suddenly glad that he couldn’t see anything around them but the creatures.

“I think we’re almost at the end,” Albus whispered. “I can see a door.”

As if they had heard him, the spheres began to slowly drift towards them, all of them. First it seemed like a random pattern, but it was merely like bloodhounds picking up a scent. Soon there were so many that Scorpius and Albus had to stop entirely. The spheres formed a wall in front of them and to their right drifting towards the two men slowly but with an inevitability that made Scorpius shudder. They were most likely blocking the doorway which Albus had spotted and were ready to herd them to wherever they would paralyse and slowly devour them until all that was left was a pile of fancily dressed bones that glowed in the dark.

“This is bad, this is really bad. Al, what’s on our left?”

“I’m pretty sure you don’t want to know.”

“Actually, Al, I believe I do.”

“There’s a lake to our left. It’s deep and there are bones in there. Also, if we jump in, the odds that we get skewered by jagged rocks and stalagmites are definitely not in our favour. Why do you ask?” Albus said in forced joviality, while Scorpius could feel the tension in his back as he held on.

“Oh, nothing. Just the fact that we’re surrounded and that they’re getting closer and we need to come up with an exit strategy right now!” The last two words were shouted as he flung himself to the left, dragging Albus with him for better or worse.

The water was so cold it hurt when they were engulfed by it. Scorpius frantically trod water, trying to keep himself above the surface while staring at the still advancing glow of the strange creatures. Beside him he could hear Albus do the same. By some miracle they managed to enter the water without injuring themselves, but fortune didn’t favour them for very long.

“Shit! Al, they’re still coming. They’re already above the water!” Scorpius could hear the panic in his own voice. He was genuinely scared, there didn’t seem to be a way out this time.

Albus swam up to him and pushed something into his hand. When he realised what the small round globules in the palm of his hand were, Albus was already speaking to him.

“Take them all, and then hold onto my hand. Try to kick your legs, but let me lead the way. You’ve got to trust me. Ready? On three.”

He counted off and Scorpius quickly shoved the pills into his mouth, swallowing them down and gagging as he could feel the gills grow along the sides of his neck. Before he could protest, Albus was dragging him forward and down under the water, his hold on Scorpius’ hand so tight it hurt. The first few minutes underwater were terrifying; Scorpius kept forgetting that he could now breathe underwater and the uncertainty of where they were going was all too much. It was only due to Albus steady grip on his arm that Scorpius didn’t panic.

Scorpius could still see the light of the creatures above what must have been the water’s surface when he swiftly turned his head to look back. They weren’t following, just hanging there, growing ever dimmer and smaller the further down Albus took him. The pressure on his ears increased and slowly became uncomfortable.

Once he collided with a boulder and spun out of Albus’ grip, turning and slowly rising up, paralysed with fear he didn’t know what to do or where to turn. He couldn’t see anything, didn’t know which way was up or down. Terror closed its iron fist around his heart and while he could breathe underwater, the oxygen didn’t do enough to support his adrenalin-drenched organism. When something touched his leg he kicked for it until he came free. Seconds later something wrapped around his middle so tightly it hurt and he panicked but couldn’t get free. Scorpius didn’t know how long he fought, but suddenly there were hands on his face, stroking his cheek and brushing their thumbs across his lips.

Scorpius could feel his heart rate slowly decrease and he became more and more aware of the body pressed against his. Something in him could sense that it was Albus and he eventually stopped struggling altogether and let Albus’ proximity and constant caress calm him down. Scorpius felt his way along Albus’ arms to his shoulders and then down to his middle, clinging to him for all he was worth. He desperately wished he could see Albus; it got so bad that it almost became a physical need. Scorpius pulled the other man to him, pressing his face into his neck. He had never been so scared in his entire life.

“Albus,” he said and knew that his voice would have sounded small and broken were they anywhere above the surface, but all that came out were a stream of bubbles that he could feel rise past his lips.

Albus seemed to be able to sense his need to reconnect and while he pushed Scorpius away the tiniest bit, he still cradled his face, his thumbs drawing slow circles on Scorpius’ cheeks. And then Albus lips were on his and they were kissing like their life was depending on it. When Albus’ tongue brushed tentatively against his own he began to relax, and then it was as if he was trying to devour Scorpius. Albus could have been trying to suck out his soul for all he cared, he couldn’t stop himself.

Albus finally broke the kiss, pressing his cheek into Scorpius’, just holding on and Scorpius felt relief wash over him. Some emotion he wasn’t prepared to name was burning him up from the inside and after the panic everything was still much too intense. He didn’t try to resist when Albus gently but determinedly disentangled himself from Scorpius. They had somewhere to go and the Gillyweed couldn’t last forever.

Scorpius could feel Albus fumble along his belt and for a moment was confused until Albus let go and tugged. They wouldn’t get disconnected again. Scorpius worried that Albus wouldn’t hold on to him at all, but he needn’t have. The presence of his fingers around his wrist returned within seconds and they continued to make their way forward.

The going, if one could call it that, become ever rougher. Albus had to repeatedly let go of Scorpius and they had to grope and crawl their way through narrow spaces more times than he could count. Scorpius tried in vain to push away the thoughts of what would happen should they get stuck under tons of rock and their Gillyweed ran out. In fact, the moment he thought of it, it was all he could think about. The pressure on his eardrums had stopped just shy of unbearable and his hands were gouged with deep cuts. Scorpius knew that his clothes were probably beyond even magic’s ability to repair and Albus most likely looked just as bad. Once again, he wished he were able to see his friend.

Albus’ hand on his chest suddenly stopped him, pulling him down by the front of his coat and then dragging him forward. Scorpius could feel the back of it tear open as Albus dragged him past a stalactite that would surely have smashed his head in, had Albus not stopped him. They squeezed through another opening so narrow that Albus had to pull Scorpius through from the other side, leaving him bruised all over. Scorpius began to feel strange, the need to cough increased and the skin on his neck was rippling. He reached for it and could feel the gills retract and then disappear until all that was left was smooth skin. Scorpius tugged desperately at the line connecting him to Albus and pointed frantically at his mouth and neck, hoping the man was watching and understood what he said.

Panic reared its ugly head again, but then Albus was there, his arm strong and reassuring around Scorpius’ middle and his lips on Scorpius’ breathing the air his lungs were so desperately screaming for back into him. And was it just his imagination or did they linger a little longer than strictly necessary? They slowly began to ascend, both of them kicking in unison, and when Scorpius thought he couldn’t bear it any more, they broke through the surface, both of them gasping for air.

Albus helped him to swim towards the shore and pulled him up. They both lay there, panting. Scorpius’ hand had somehow ended up on Albus’ chest, just above his heart, and the steady beating as well as the rise and fall of his chest were what kept him anchored, what kept him sane. Eventually their breathing slowed down and beside him Albus began to laugh.

“You’re mad, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. Completely and utterly bonkers!”

Scorpius couldn’t help but grin. “Takes one to know one, dearest friend.”

“Come on. I don’t like this place any more than you do, but I think we should try to get some rest.”

Albus helped him up. Scorpius patted his coat and while one of the pockets was completely unharmed, the other had been torn off.

“Shit!”

“What?” Albus asked

“One of my pockets was torn off. We either have nothing to sleep on, or we have no provisions.” Scorpius searched the pocket and sighed.

“Well, which one is it?”

“While I do love being comfortable when I rest, I’m afraid that what we managed to lose were our provisions.”

“You mean what you managed to lose.”

“Oi, blind guy speaking, or did you forget?” Scorpius huffed.

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Give them to me; you can rest your lazy blind arse and I’ll set them up.”

Scorpius grumbled and said something rude in reply. He handed the shrunken contents of his pocket to Albus before sitting back down. It took longer than they had anticipated. After about half an hour Albus came up to him and pressed a mug of hot tea into his hand and Scorpius was grateful for it. They couldn’t use magic to dry their clothes and he had begun to shiver. When they finally crawled into bed, their clothes hung out to dry outside – or so Scorpius assumed – it was at least another hour later.

***

When he woke cold, grey light filtered in through the flaps of the tent. Scorpius didn’t want to move; he was warm and comfortable. Scorpius nuzzled back into the neck of the person in front of him and pulled him closer by the arm he had slung around his waist. The man mumbled something and snuggled back into the embrace but didn’t wake up. Scorpius’ entire being hummed with contentment and only when he was about to press a kiss to the bit of neck exposed in front of him did he notice that something might be off. Albus mumbled again and Scorpius shrank back as if burnt.

This was not a life or death situation. This was a regular morning out in the field – or as regular as they got under the circumstances. This was not alright. Albus wouldn’t be alright with this, Scorpius knew. Shit, shit, shit! He thought and then carefully moved back, tucking Albus in, and once he had done that fleeing the tent entirely.

Outside he grabbed what was left of his clothes and put them on haphazardly before starting up the fire. He sat down, waiting for the _caffettiera_ to heat and bubble. Scorpius buried his face in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees; nothing ever seemed to go alright for him. They were lost in the middle of a series of mountain caves, not a step closer to finding a cure to his father’s illness, and he was making advances on his best friend in his sleep.

Scorpius took in their surroundings. The walls of the cave he found himself in reached up so high he could barely make out the ceiling. They were carved and covered in small holes that he thought might be more doorways. There were several levels of what could only be a crater city and each of them had a carved gallery with banisters and steps leading up to the next one. Like everything they had seen so far, it was completely deserted.

The room was a perfect circle. Along the walls was a rocky shore and in the centre of the circle was a vast lake, its water dark and silent despite the waterfall that was churning nearby. Then again, everything about this place was strange, so what was one more thing out of the ordinary? The middle of the lake was shrouded in a soft mist and Scorpius could barely make out the shape of a small ancient looking temple. Something told him that that was where they had to go. As he sat there, observing and lost in his own thoughts, it took him almost five minutes to realise what had changed.

“Al!” he shouted.

“What?” came the grumpy reply from inside the tent.

“The potion has worn off!”

“Oh really? And that’s why you woke me up?”

“Al, could you stop being a grumpy bastard for a second and come out here?”

“Is there coffee?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

More grumbling followed and then a completely dishevelled-looking Albus emerged from the inside of the tent. If Scorpius didn’t know better, he would have said he looked freshly shagged out.

Scorpius wordlessly handed him his mug and watched, amused, as the coffee worked its magic on Albus.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing.”

Albus quickly looked into his mug as if suspecting something untoward.

“Oh come on, you can’t still be suspicious about this. Sweden was almost a year ago.”

Albus only snorted. He definitely knew Scorpius too well.

“It’s alright, I promise. I actually need your opinion on something.”

“What is it?”

Scorpius pointed over at the waterfall. “Is it just me or is there something weird about it?”

Albus eyed the waterfall for a while and then shook his head as if he couldn’t possibly be right.

“Come on; tell me what you’re thinking.”

“It’s flowing towards the ceiling. I’ve got absolutely no idea how that’s even possible, but it is. Must have something to do with the magical force or maybe…” Albus stopped speaking in the middle of the sentence, a thoughtful look taking up residence on his features. “Give me your wand, and pack our things,” he ordered.

“Why?”

“Scorpius, just give me your bloody wand!”

“Oh, alright. Why can’t we use yours?”

“Because, you nit, you made me leave it behind with the motorcycle to strengthen your disillusion charm!”

Albus took Scorpius’ wand and pointed it at the lake. He executed a series of complicated wand movements that Scorpius had never seen before. This usually meant that Scorpius was about to witness one of Albus’ self-invented spells.

“ _Illusio Revertio_ ,” he said calmly and for a moment nothing happened but then the entire surface of the lake began to glow. Albus stepped back and motioned for Scorpius to join him.

“Quickly, we don’t have much time.”

Scorpius finished packing their belongings and activated the built in shrinking charms before storing them back into his one remaining pocket and then crossed the shore to where Albus stood waiting for him. Albus took his hand and walked them towards the edge of the water.

“We have to step in simultaneously.”

Scorpius nodded in reply. Albus counted to three on his fingers and then they both stepped forward. Where they expected to sink into the water, they met solid matter. Something was happening. The ground began to tremble and suddenly they felt the sickening sensation of falling and of the pits dropping out of their stomachs. Scorpius felt nauseated; he was kneeling on the lake’s surface and retching. Beside him, Albus wasn't faring much better.

“What the fuck did that spell of yours do?”

“It was supposed to revert the illusion to its original state, and I guess in a way it did,” Albus said, pointing at the waterfall; it was falling in the right direction now. Scorpius followed it with his eyes and looked through the lake surface. What he saw made him stumble backwards.

“Merlin!” he exclaimed. “Al, look! We’re…”

Even Albus stayed quiet; what they saw quite defied description. They were looking down at the cave they had spent the night in. Scorpius could even make out the flicker of the fire where it still burnt merrily. Everything was slightly distorted, as if they were looking at it through a glass of water and in a way, he supposed, they were.

“I think we should get to the island as quickly as possible. I don’t know how long this will last; the magic around here is pretty strong. It’s a small miracle that my spell worked at all.”

Scorpius followed Albus as he quickly strode towards the small island in the centre of the lake. He couldn’t let himself think about where they were or what they were walking on, it was just too weird. About five minutes later they reached the island that was made up entirely of one piece of marble, which seemed oddly out of place. The temple and the steps leading up to it were carved out of the rock. Pillars rose on either side of the temple, but if one expected to find them supporting a roof, one would be surprised. The pillars looked Greek and were decorated with delicate carved floral designs at the top.

The temple couldn’t measure more than seven square metres and in its middle stood a kind of ark or sarcophagus. They approached it cautiously, weary after everything they had encountered so far. Surprisingly enough, nothing happened when they reached the ark. Scorpius brushed his hand across the lid; the marble was smooth to the touch and felt warm, as if it was alive. Just as his fingers slid around the edges trying to get a good grip, a booming voice began to speak.

“Ye who have entered here, knowest thou that thou will have to prove thyselves worthy…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Scorpius shouted above the noise. “I’ve had it with all of these tests and having to prove myself worthy. Fuck it! We’re leaving.”

Scorpius took hold of Albus and dragged him towards the stairs. The awkward silence around them stretched until it became unbearable. They had already reached the top of the stairs, when the voice spoke again, sounding confused and slightly shifty.

“Uhm…”

“Forget it!”

“But… don’t you want the knowledge and wisdom, hear of the glory of…?”

“Will you shut up?! I’ve had it with knowledge, whoever the fuck you are. You can keep your knowledge and wisdom and whatever the fuck you want to dump on us. This just isn’t worth the bother.”

Albus looked at him as if he had gone insane and the disembodied voice seemed to think the same thing.

“Uhm… listen… it’s only one more test to prove your worth, to partake in the…”

“I told you to shut it, Gandalf! Go and prove yourself worthy of our time. We’ve gone through your illusion, been chased by an invisible creature, fallen down a steep slope, and been shocked, poisoned, blinded, paralysed, almost drowned… twice, knocked out and made to lose our stomach contents and you think we still need to prove ourselves? Well, fuck you! We’ve proven ourselves more than worthy! And don’t give me that shit about the glorious ‘whatever’ either. They’ve been dead for hundreds of years; I don’t see how they have any right to judge us at all.”

There was a pregnant pause, when the voice tried to come up with a fitting reply.

“So yeah, I’m sick and tired of putting up with your shit. Have fun waiting another century or two until the next person shows up.”

They were halfway down the stairs by the time the voice called out for them.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“I suppose I could… make an exception. But it’s highly unorthodox.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“No more traps and a safe way back!”

“Alright, alright.”

Albus and Scorpius stepped back inside, Albus gaping like an idiot when Scorpius winked at him.

“Oh, mighty warriors…”

“Would you get to the point?! We don’t have all day, you know?”

“Oh alright, take away all my fun,” the voice said, sounding miffed. “Here’s what you need to know…”

***

Albus and Scorpius were quiet on the way back, only exchanging sporadic words as they walked. The journey back to the surface didn’t seem to take them nearly as long as the way down. There were no obstacles and even the trek back from the ghost city didn’t take hours as it had before. Distance was subject to change in these strange caverns, but neither of them commented on it. Albus was clutching the scrolls they had received to his chest and Scorpius was simply trudging ahead. Another wasted trip with nothing to show for it but bruises and more riddles that he was too exhausted to even consider solving.

When they got home, Albus would lock himself away into his lab again, researching and coming up with new locations to explore while Draco’s time ran out, slowly but surely. And Scorpius himself would be restless, would try to do something, _anything_ , but would only end up making it worse for everyone, including himself.

They climbed the slope in silence, only uttering words when it was strictly necessary. They emerged from the cave mouth out onto the road that led through the deserted village, as if the mist-shrouded plateau had been nothing but a bad dream. Everything looked the same; the sun hadn’t set any further and it seemed as if no time at all had passed since they had entered the cave although it felt like days.

By the time they reached the motorcycle and climbed on, the stars had come out, making it easier to navigate their way back. Once at the Manor, their equipment was stored away meticulously. Both were intent on busying themselves with the things they knew needed to be done to keep their minds off the obvious.

Scorpius allowed himself to slump onto a barstool at their kitchen counter. He restlessly drew infinity patterns onto the smooth surface of the counter. It was no use, none of it was. Not the dangers they had gone through, the shit they had to put up with; it was all for nothing. Scorpius balled his hand into a fist and smashed it on the tabletop so hard he could hear something crack. A grim and satisfied smile spread across his face; at least the pain went some way to alleviating the feeling of utter helplessness.

Albus, who had been standing by, watching him and probably waiting for him to break, walked over quietly. He put his hand on Scorpius’ arm and without a word pulled him off of the chair and into a tight hug, pressing Scorpius’ face into the side of his, caressing his neck and drawing slow soothing circles on his back. Scorpius stood there, stiff and unyielding for a long time, but Albus never ceased his soothing motion and finally something inside Scorpius broke and he clung to his best friend, at last allowing himself to take comfort in his embrace.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

**Albus Severus Potter - Present Day**

They have been at sea for two days already and Albus has barely caught a glimpse of Scorpius. The only time Scorpius had been to dinner with the crew was when Albus had forced him to. During the meal Scorpius had been quiet and, if spoken to, incredibly offensive. In the end Albus had left the table, his fists clenching and unclenching with rage as he walked away. He had never been so close to physically harming his best mate in the course of their entire friendship.

Alone in his cabin Albus forces those thoughts from his mind. There is no point in going over that incident again; it is much too late already. In quiet moments like these Albus sometimes wonders whether their relationship has been destroyed beyond anyone’s ability, least of all his own, to mend. With a sigh he cards his fingers through his hair and goes over their plan once more.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/wantsunicorns/pic/00003grp/)

After having established beyond a doubt that the only one who can save Draco is Albus’ own father, they have decided to travel to his last known location and seek him out. After months of letters returned unopened and Floo calls unanswered, Albus knows that any attempt to establish direct contact with his father is going to be futile. They will have to show up in person and hunt him down.

At first they had thought they might simply Apparate to Iceland and seek out his father, but for some reason the Icelandic wizarding government had chosen to put up magical Portkey and Apparition wards spanning their entire island. It is impossible to reach unless coming by ship or plane. Even brooms have been known to falter and drop their unsuspecting passengers into the cold ocean when they come within sight of the coast line. It took a special broom, designed to work over the volcanic landmass, to get around. When he had asked, Albus had been told that the reason for this was the constant volcanic activity on the island, which caused random bursts of wild magic to discharge. Apparently there had been several incidents resulting in splinching and, in some cases, unsolved disappearances and death. He was convinced there was more to it, but hadn’t been able to find out anything.

Albus had immediately seen the merit of such a place to his father’s slightly warped sense of reality. Far away from prying eyes and in a position to control the wizarding world’s access to his person, it must have seemed like paradise. Especially after the scandal involving his dishonourable discharge from the Auror corps following that very public fistfight with Draco Malfoy. 

The Ministry had finally found an opportunity to unburden themselves from an Auror that had become an embarrassment. The public perception of Auror brutality was not helped by his father’s inability to control his temper – in public as well as in the interrogation room. Albus’ father had been sentenced to house arrest and had had a monitoring charm put on his wand to make sure he didn’t leave London. 

Albus had had no illusions at the time that his father would let the Ministry treat him like that. It hadn’t even been a week before Ministry officials had knocked on his door, demanding he surrender his father into their custody at once. Albus had had no idea that his father had not only escaped house arrest, but had also managed to disable the monitoring charm. Albus had been supposed to go to his father’s place for dinner that very night and he was as surprised as the Aurors were.

Some weeks later Albus and his siblings had each received an untraceable owl that told them where their father had gone. Ten minutes after delivery, the parchment burst into flame and all that was left at each of their homes were three identical piles of dust. Even now the memory makes Albus smile. The cheek alone necessary to pull something like that off is something to be admired.

Albus rubs his eyes tiredly. It is time to call it a night, he decides. No matter how often he goes over their plan, he cannot know how his father will react to their proposal or whether he will even be willing to talk to them. He can only hope that, despite everything, his father will at least feel obligated to save another’s life.

The thick carpet is soft beneath his feet and for once Albus allows himself to just discard his clothes on the way to the cabin’s ensuite. The thought of the hot spray hitting his skin is enough to draw him forward as if pulled by invisible wires. Albus is completely unfazed by his own nudity, propriety, for once, the last thing on his mind. He doesn’t suppress the moan of pleasure when the hot water begins cascading down his body, pooling at his feet and then vanishing into the drain.

Steam fills the small room and Albus cannot even make out the wall opposite him. He knows he should turn off the water and get some rest; he is exhausted. Too exhausted to even step out of the shower. The tiles are still cool beneath his fingers as he leans in and presses first his cheek and then his forehead against them, feeling the hot water trail down his back like a series of light kisses. Albus feels himself slowly slipping to the floor as his legs give way. He expects pain, but is surprised when he is caught by gentle arms and pulled against a smooth, warm and naked chest.

This is the most delightful dream, he decides, as warm hands begin to caress his torso and tweak his nipples until they turn into hard little nubs. He can feel his dream companion’s erection digging into his back and is surprised by the sudden desire that shoots through him. One of the hands creeps up and gently takes hold of his chin, turning it so that his mouth can be claimed in a slow, gentle kiss that quickly grows heated.

Albus begins to moan wantonly, pushing back as his lover rubs his erection along the cleft of Albus’ arse. The water of the shower cascades over both of them, caressing their bodies and making the motion slick and easy. Albus’ lover is holding onto his hips hard enough to bruise. Albus’ left forearm is up against the tiles in front of him and he rests his head against it as he reaches for his own painfully hard prick and begins to pull himself off frantically. As if remembering himself his lover’s hand joins his and it doesn’t take long before Albus can feel his orgasm tearing through him. He pumps his hips forward, pushing his prick through both their fists repeatedly until he is utterly spent, the water washing away any evidence. His lover grunts and suddenly Al feels something warm and wet splatter against his balls. The fog in his mind doesn’t clear, even after the post orgasmic bliss slowly subsides. The hands have turned gentle again, tracing his skin reverently while the man himself is pressing kisses all over Albus’ shoulders and neck.

Albus feels utterly content and beautifully sluggish. He hasn’t even seen his lover’s face, but he doesn’t mind at all. He is dreaming after all, probably drooling onto one of the maps on his desk, but he doesn’t care; this dream is too lovely to want to wake up from. Closing his eyes, he leans back into his lover and lets him do with him as he will. Just before he drifts off into an even deeper layer of sleep, he feels something unbelievably tender touch his mind with such deep and all encompassing affection for everything that makes him who he is, that he can feel his entire being thrum with the sensation of being loved.

Crisp morning light falls into the cabin when Albus wakes many hours later. It is the kind of light that promises to turn into a beautiful day, clouds chasing each other across the blue sky and the sun lighting up the water until it becomes impossible to tell where the ocean ends and the sky begins.

Albus yawns and stretches luxuriously, rejoicing in the knowledge that it is too early to get up. The sheets are soft and warm around him and he feels utterly divine. He lies in bed, completely refreshed. The first clear thought that enters his mind is the word “blue”, which he attributes to the sky and forgets again right away. His lips stretch into a lazy smile of their own volition as Albus recalls his dream. Whatever he had to suffer through during the last two days, his subconscious obviously decided to reward him for it. For the first time in weeks he has slept through the night without interruption; that and the dream allow Albus to believe that he will actually be able to face Scorpius today without letting whatever he does get under his skin.

***

Albus is leaning on the railing resting on his elbows and cradling a cup of coffee in his hands, the warmth steadily seeping into his stiff fingers. The cup is hovering dangerously close to the edge, but Albus has wound two of his fingers through the handle keeping it safe should he startle or the ship suddenly dip to one side, as they are wont to do sometimes.

The skies look clear and promising; there is barely any wind and the thick woollen jumper he has chosen to wear warms him just enough. 

He is torn out of his contemplation of the horizon when someone reaches into the back pocket of his trousers and draws out the packet of cigarettes he put there before leaving his cabin. He hears the telltale sound of a wand being drawn and then the greedy first drags on the fag as the smoker tries to get as much nicotine into their system as possible. Johanna steps up, resting her elbows on the railing beside him and handing him the fag while staring steadily forward.

“I thought you’d quit,” she says, taking a quick breath after blowing smoke out of the right corner of her mouth.

“I did, for a while.” Albus doesn’t feel like revealing more and is reminded of why he values her company when she wordlessly holds out her hand for him to pass the cigarette back to her. He does so without hesitation before wrapping both of his hands once more around the mug.

“You know, usually there needs to be a reason to quit something and if the reason ceases to matter, bad habits return.”

She creates a smoke ring when breathing out and stares wistfully ahead. After a while Albus feels obliged to speak.

“How’s Violetta?”

Johanna extinguishes the fag and gets another from Albus’ pocket, lighting it properly before finally replying.

“I don’t know.”

“Are you two alright?”

“I don’t know, she’s not speaking to me again.” She shakes her head tiredly before visibly shaking off the dark mood. “I’d better go inside and see what that lazy-arse crew of mine is up to. No point in dwelling on things we can’t change, eh? Make sure you don’t stay out here too long, Al. Don’t want you to catch cold. Breakfast is in half an hour.”

Johanna hands him the half-smoked cigarette and Albus accepts it gratefully. He looks after her until she steps inside, before turning back towards the sea, one hand holding the mug, the other the fag. He slowly brings it to his lips and inhales deeply, feeling the familiar sense of calm that comes with smoking wash over him. The reprieve is short lived.

“I thought you’d stopped smoking.” It is Scorpius and Albus doesn’t even have to turn around to know that his lips are turned down into an unattractive, disgusted sneer.

“And then I started again, obviously.” Albus is still not looking at Scorpius; he is not in the mood to deal with Scorpius’ issues right now. Not after that brilliant dream he had. If Scorpius would just shut up, Albus could pretend that it had been him. But of course, that is entirely impossible.

“You know I don’t like it when you smoke.” 

Is that disappointment in Scorpius’ voice? Albus concludes that he must have heard wrong. It is obvious Scorpius has stopped caring for him in any way whatsoever, why should he care whether Albus smoked or not? He doesn’t even spend enough time around Albus to take offence at the smell of smoke on his clothes, being locked away in his cabin all day. Albus draws out his pocket watch and clicks it once to check the time.

“Tough luck!” Albus takes one more drag on his cigarette, before extinguishing it on the railing, smiling grimly at the dark stain that now mars the pale wood. “I’m going to have some breakfast,” he says, snapping his watch shut and walking towards the door leading below deck without sparing Scorpius more than a passing glance.

There is no one in the dining room yet and Albus curses his inability to behave maturely around Scorpius. If he could do that, then he wouldn’t be early, wasting time indoors by himself. There is a noise behind him and Albus begins speaking before he has turned around fully.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m early - Oh, it’s you.” Albus' smile falters as he beholds Scorpius standing in the doorway, effectively blocking his exit. Scorpius looks him up and down critically.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” he asks.

“What’s wrong with me?” Albus bristles. “What do you mean what’s wrong with _me_? There’s nothing wrong with me and what the fuck do you care? Honestly, Scorpius, who do you think you’re kidding? The only person you care about is yourself.” Albus spits out the hateful words that cannot seem to tumble off his tongue fast enough.

Scorpius looks even angrier after those words, but doesn’t reply.

“Oh that’s classy, Scorpius. Always starting confrontations about shit and then bailing out. Fuck you!”

Albus makes his way over to Scorpius, intending to push him aside to go back to his cabin until it is time for breakfast. 

When he reaches Scorpius, he whispers in a dangerously low voice, “There’s nothing wrong with me, Scorpius, but there’s _everything_ wrong with you!”

They stand toe to toe, breathing heavily, their faces contorted in anger. Strangely, Albus is reminded of his dream, and is torn between conflicting urges to kiss and hit Scorpius. He never finds out which urge would have won out, because at that precise moment someone beside them clears their throat. Scorpius takes two steps back and vanishes through the door. Albus’ heart is in his throat as he hears the quiet click of a cabin door that sounds distressingly final. He wants to walk over there, wants to open the door and apologise and find the Scorpius that stole his heart, but he knows with unwavering certainty, that it is far too late for that. The throat clearing noise is repeated and Albus returns to the situation at hand.

“Sorry if I interrupted anything, mate, but this plate‘s really very heavy.”

Albus shakes off the sense of something very important just having ended and forces a smile before turning to the crew member that is balancing a huge plate piled high with eggs, bacon and sausages.

“No, I’m sorry! Here, let me help you.” With that Albus takes the plate and carries it over to its regular spot on the sideboard. A flick of his wand lights the small caged fire beneath the stand to keep the food warm and before long it is steaming and filling the room with its divine smell. The rest of the crew file in one by one carrying plates of bread rolls, fruit, fish and, most importantly, the coffee pot.

Albus pours himself another cup and walks over to stand by the window. Slowly, the pleasant buzz of light breakfast conversation begins to fill the room as everyone digs in.

“I don’t think he’s going to show,” Johanna says, squeezing his shoulder once. “Come on, have some food and sit with us. It’ll be alright, eventually.”

Albus does what he is told. If he has learnt anything at all, it is that it's impossible to disobey the captain on her own boat. He tries to join the chatter at the table but his heart is not in it, and it shows. After he finishes the food on his plate and swallows the last of his coffee, he returns to his cabin. Inside, he locks the door and shuts the blinds, plunging the cabin into twilight. He crawls under the sheets, turns to the wall and hides himself away from the world. Despite everything, he presses the small health state detector against his heart. He wishes he could fall asleep and never wake up. Maybe his dream lover would wait for him and if so, why would he ever want to return to a place where he is so obviously not wanted by the one person that truly matters.

***

This time the dream seems more real, more solid somehow, when it begins. Albus has woken up in his bed, the blinds are still closed, and even though he cannot see properly, he knows that he is not alone. And yes, there in the corner is a shadow that is darker than it should be.

“I know you’re there,” Albus says, his voice heavy with sleep.

The figure steps out of the shadow and advances slowly. Albus feels exposed in its gaze even though he is still fully dressed in his woollen jumper, warm trousers and thick socks.

“Who are you?” he asks, a bit unsure of where this ridiculously authentic dream is going. The figure remains silent, but something gentle and reassuring touches Albus’ mind and he stops worrying entirely. As if in a trance, Albus begins to take off his clothes, starting with the jumper. By the time his lover reaches Albus’ cot and climbs into it, Albus is completely naked.

He shudders as warm breath hits his skin. The man traces a line of kisses up Albus’ torso and against the exposed side of his neck. Finally he touches his lips to Albus’ mouth. Albus’ arms come around his lover’s neck and hold him close as he gives as good as he gets, devouring the man’s mouth with his lips and tongue. His lover’s hands run all over his body and he feels himself trembling into the touch as the tension of the day is released. He begins to feel like himself again.

The stranger breaks the kiss and when Albus tries to follow he is pushed back to the mattress; fingers spread lightly over his sternum and the gentleness of their touch belies the strength of their hold. Without having to struggle against them, Albus knows that he couldn’t get back up if he tried. He is not scared; deep inside he knows that the man doesn’t mean him any harm. He is only there to heal his soul and give him pleasure.

His lover keeps Albus pinned like a butterfly in his heated gaze. He removes all of his fingers from Albus’ chest but his index finger, which he uses to draw a line down to Albus’ navel and across to his left hip bone. He takes a sharp curve and draws it along the inside of Albus’ thigh, foregoing his cock entirely. Albus is squirming in anticipation and his mind is filled with a dark chuckle full of promise. 

His lover leans down and kisses the centre of Albus chest and then he laves a warm trail downwards, circling his navel before dipping in and fucking it with his tongue. The only sound in the room is Albus’ harsh breathing. His lover trails lower, nipping at his hipbone, then following the line his finger had drawn, past his now painfully erect cock. He moves further along the inside of his thigh, ending the delicious torture with a soft kiss to the inside of his knee. Albus can feel his entire skin suffuse with heat. He closes his eyes, can’t bear to look at what he hopes will happen next or he will come right away.

“Oh God!” he moans at the first touch of tongue on the head of his prick. The licks are teasing and light and driving him up the wall.

“Please,” he hears himself beg, but nothing changes. Albus opens his eyes again; it is a conscious effort not to thrust up at the sight of his lover hovering over his prick, mouth open and flicking red tongue in stark contrast to his blue skin. 

His lover reaches up and takes one of Albus’ hands, moving it to his own head and tangling Albus’ fingers in his hair. The strands are soft beneath Albus’ fingers; he tightens his hold around them, probably causing pain. He doesn’t stop because the moment he tightened his grip, that mouth had swallowed down his cock as far as it would go.

Albus moans and writhes on the bed wantonly, not caring about the picture he makes or whether anyone can hear him. This is his dream and his alone and if he chooses to get off screaming loud enough to shake the walls, it is his choice.

“Yes, Merlin, more!” he gasps out, leaning up so he can have a better look, his stomach muscles tightening. His lover keeps his head still and lets Albus fuck his mouth. He is so very close and he can feel his face crunching up with the effort of keeping up the pace, pushing himself into the slick velvety heat of his lover’s mouth. Albus is beyond words now; the only sounds leaving his mouth are little desperate gasps and whimpers of pleasure. He bites down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Then he is coming, his toes curling and his balls tightening as he pours himself down his lover’s throat, before he slumps back down onto the mattress, breathing harshly.

The man releases Albus’ cock with a filthy sounding pop and smiles up at Albus whose chest is still heaving with exertion. Albus thighs fall open, a blatant invitation for his lover to seek his pleasure in Albus’ flesh. He is surprised when the man turns him on to his side, spooning him from behind and pressing himself against Albus sweat-slicked back. His lover nuzzles the wet hair at the nape of his neck and Albus can hear him inhaling deeply. Albus should be embarrassed when the man flicks his tongue out and tastes the beads of sweat that have collected in his hair, but remembers that this is just a dream and that there is absolutely no reason for it.

A steady hand grips Albus’ thigh and holds his legs together, before the man pushes his hard cock between the sweat-slicked limbs. It feels strange yet incredibly arousing as his lover’s cock brushes past his scrotum and along his balls with every thrust and he can feel his own cock twitching with interest. The breaths hitting the back of his neck quicken, sending a shiver down Albus’ spine. Albus is tugging at his own cock in time with the ever increasing pace of the thrusts between his wet thighs. He is going crazy with the erotic sound of skin slapping against skin and it is not long before he spills his seed for a second time. His lover follows soon after, stiffening behind him and adding his spunk to Albus’.

They both breathe harshly and Albus feels his insides twist pleasantly when his lover throws a leg and arm over him possessively. His soft cock is resting against the swell of Albus arse. Albus doesn’t care that he is sweaty and covered in sticky come, he rejoices in the fact of having his lover’s presence permeate his every sense. A gentle kiss is pressed against his shoulder from behind and the word “mine” flits through Albus’ mind. He reaches for his lover’s arm around his waist and intertwines their fingers. Albus’ entire being is suffused with the sense of belonging and it is no surprise that “yours” is the reply he mumbles before drifting deeper into sleep.

***

Waking up is difficult. Albus feels stiff and cold as he slowly becomes aware of his body. He is naked and half uncovered, his clothes bunched up under the sheets at the end of his bed. Memories of the vivid dream from the night before rise to the surface inside his mind and he begins to wonder whether it was only a dream, but it couldn’t have been anything else, could it? The boat itself is warded against succubi, he is sure of it. Albus groggily climbs out of bed and walks across his cabin until he can check himself in the bathroom mirror.

He looks at himself carefully, checking every area that had been touched in his dream, but can’t find any mark that would indicate it had been anything but that. Sighing only once, Albus washes and dresses, takes his pince-nez and his leather-bound notebook from his small ornate writing desk and makes his way to the dining room.

About an hour later Albus’ coffee has already grown cold and the table is covered in more paper than the notebook should be able to contain. He has immersed himself in his notes and the maps they will need for the next leg of their journey so entirely that he hasn’t even noticed the three times Johanna has entered and reheated his coffee with a spell. 

He takes off his pince-nez and squeezes the bridge of his nose. Albus knows almost exactly where to find his father and what to tell him. There is no way around what he has to do next, no matter how much he dreads it. There is nothing for it; he has to talk to Scorpius.

Outside of Scorpius’ cabin Albus hesitates. He knocks once and there is no reply. Maybe Scorpius isn’t in. He is just about to turn away and search for Scorpius, when he hears what sounds like a muffled sob from inside the room. Albus knows he shouldn’t violate Scorpius’ privacy, but after what happened on the roof that night, his heart is in his throat and he already feels the all-too-familiar panic rise in his chest. Hesitating a moment longer, Albus tries the door only to find it locked. The noise inside is heard again and followed by the sound of breaking furniture. Albus wand is in his hand before he can make a conscious decision, his mind only catching up after he has already taken down the wards and unlocked the door.

The sight that meets him when he steps into the room is entirely unexpected. 

Scorpius is standing by his unmade bed, wearing nothing but a bathrobe that falls open at the front, his wet hair hanging into his eyes before he leans to the side to towel it off roughly. Albus stops dead in his tracks, arm outstretched towards Scorpius, unable to connect the picture in front of him with the devastation he had expected to see. 

“Did you want something?” Scorpius asks coldly and it takes a while for Albus to backtrack to his original reason for seeking him out.

“I-I…”

“Yes? Spit it out already.”

For fuck’s sake, he is an adult and he is Scorpius’ business partner and flatmate if nothing else. Albus visibly draws himself up before speaking again. He can do this; he can treat Scorpius like he is just any other person on this journey to seek out his father.

“I need to go over the plans with you once more. I’ll be waiting for you in the dining room.” Without another word Albus turns and walks back to where he came from, cursing his mind for imagining the sounds, and cursing his own weakness in still caring that much.

Ten minutes later an impeccably dressed Scorpius joins him and they pour over the maps, talking about the routes they can take and which to avoid. It is all very businesslike and it reminds Albus of how things used to be and he misses them.

“I don’t see why you’ve got to come along at all,” Scorpius suddenly says, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “It’s not like it’s your father that’s sick!”

Albus is speechless, he has no idea where the outburst came from but it is enough to allow him to move past sadness and onto anger.

“Oh, don’t you, Scorpius? How exactly did you imagine this’ll go? You’ll drive up to my father’s house, simply knock on the door and he’ll let you in? You two must have grown to be best mates while I wasn’t looking then, because the last time he laid eyes on you, he threatened to eviscerate you next time he saw you. You know, if I didn’t care for Draco as much as I do, I wouldn’t put up with your ceaseless tantrums and emotional fuckwittage, you selfish prick!”

“I’m selfish? Right, I’m going on this journey to find help for my father - who’s dying because of that potion you gave him, might I remind you of that - and I’m the selfish one? Seriously, if you cared any more about anyone but yourself, Al, the world would end. The only reason you even agreed to accompany me is because if you care about my father at all, you care about him too much. You probably think he’ll be so grateful when he wakes that he’ll include you in his will or some other such ridiculous notion. I must disappoint you, Al, disloyal, cheating wankers are not his type.”

Albus doesn’t even know how to reply to this.

“I… the audacity of… Scorpius, you know what? This is it! This is the last time I’m helping you with anything. When we return to England and your father is cured I’ll move my things out of the flat and you’ll never see me again. I’m sick and tired of having to put up with your infantile mood swings. This, us, whatever we once had? It’s over. You disgust me!”

Icy silence meets those words and Albus, hand shaking, taps his wand only once to his notebook, automatically shrinking all the pages and folding up the maps until they fit into the smooth leather cover again. He wraps the thin strap of leather around it and ties the knot. Then he grabs the book and his pince-nez before stalking from the room without so much as a backward glance.

“Yeah, well, good riddance!” echoes after him, but Albus cannot be sure whether he only imagined it.

The way to the safety of his cabin has never felt so long. He is torn between rage and utter desolation at what just happened. Part of him believed that somehow they might be able to return to normal if they managed to save Scorpius’ father, but even that tiny spark of hope that had shone steadily despite everything, has died.

His room is cold and feels empty without the reassuring presence of the man he has been dreaming about. Albus slowly closes the door behind him, puts down the notebook and his pince-nez and undoes his tie. The fabric is smooth beneath his fingers as he pulls it away, placing it carefully on the desk beside his quill and inkpot. Albus sits down behind his ornate writing desk, his face in his hands and his elbows resting on his knees. His entire posture is a picture of defeat.

He can’t wait for night to fall so he can go back to bed and return to a place where he is wanted and desired, safe and cherished. Albus tries to remember details from the previous night, but as much as he tries the dream has begun to fade and nothing seems to be able to bring back more than a vague feeling of longing.

Albus doesn’t know how much time he spends pondering his situation, trying to decide what to do with himself should he not only leave his home, but also quit his job. To be as far away from Scorpius as possible seems to be the sensible decision, but it is so hard to picture his life without him. Albus knows how wrong this is, this behaviour of playing down his bad points. Of keeping his hope alive and telling himself that it _means_ something when the person he cares for makes a kind gesture. The value he puts on any good deed Scorpius does is so ridiculously high that every past wrong is immediately forgiven.

Rationally he understands how it works, but his heart never learns, never understands. It allows pain and humiliation, just for the sake of those few shining moments when it feels like it is the most precious thing. Like Albus is the only thing in the entire universe that matters to Scorpius.

Johanna sends someone over with dinner, but Albus just lets it sit on his writing desk and watches it grow cold. He slowly undresses, every movement precise, so he doesn’t have to think about what is at the forefront of his mind. He folds his things neatly, much like he used to when he was still at Hogwarts, and even the loneliness he feels is suddenly familiar. When the last things he wears are his pants and the wristband of leather that still connects him to Scorpius, he hesitates only once before taking it off as well. For the first time in many years, the pressure around his wrist is gone, and he feels the loss. For a moment he almost puts it back on, but then he hides it in the drawer of his desk. It is out of sight and he is keenly aware that he can’t see it anymore.

This time, before going to sleep, Albus takes a sleeping potion as well as a Dreamless Sleep potion. He cannot bear to wake up feeling like he is in love with someone who loves him back, only to have his heart broken the moment he leaves his cabin. Tomorrow will be one day closer to his life without Scorpius. He should feel liberated and hates that all he feels is sad.

***

Albus had set his pocket watch to wake him just before dawn. When he climbs out of bed, his mind still foggy with the remains of the sleeping potion still in his system, he suddenly regrets his decision from the previous night and vows to never again deny himself the one thing that gives him pleasure. Ten minutes later he is dressed in his suit and waistcoat, a thick overcoat warming his shivering frame. It is too cold to have coffee outside, but he allows himself a few desperate drags from a fag. His inner turmoil refuses to be calmed by the sea, and the cold air and icy rain drive him inside fairly quickly. Time to go back inside and face the music.

It won’t be long before they reach their destination. As Albus heads down the corridor towards the dining room he can hear the low murmur of conversation, occasionally drowned out by the pounding of the steam-powered heart of the Nautilus. The closer he gets the louder it becomes. He steps into the room and blinks against the bright light that uncharacteristically fills the room.

“…as I was saying, the first thing to be unloaded needs to be our means of transport. Once we've got that ready to go, we can unload the rest, shrink it and stow it in the saddlebags. Potter, you’re late!”

Albus winces at the use of his surname. His eyes dart around the room. The entire crew is here and when his gaze reaches her, Johanna shoots him an odd look, but doesn’t speak. Scorpius is still staring at him, as if he is waiting for an apology. Well, that is never going to happen!

“I wasn’t aware that there was a meeting this morning.” Albus tries to keep his back straight and not shrink beneath Scorpius withering gaze.

“Oh really, _Potter_.” He spits out Albus’ name as if it is something disgusting that he wants to get out of his mouth as quickly as possible. “I thought the people who made the itinerary were actually supposed to read it. My mistake. Since we’re all done here, I’ll see you all outside on the deck as soon as it’s time to begin unloading the cargo. Johanna.” Scorpius inclines his head towards her once and leaves.

Johanna gives Albus a look that promises that there will be words and that he will have a lot to explain. He just nods at her, much like Scorpius, and pushes his way past the crew as they file out of the room. Now is definitely not the time for that conversation.

When he finally catches up with Scorpius, he grabs his arm and pulls him into a stairwell that leads to the ships’ steam engine.

“What the fuck, Scorpius?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Potter.”

“You know exactly what I mean. What gives you the right to treat me like that in front of other people? What happened between us is private. You had absolutely no right-”

“I don’t see your problem, Potter. You, yourself, said that we’re finished. I merely wanted to prepare you for what is to come should you not change your mind. And even if you do, don’t be sure that you’ll be welcomed back. It’s cold and lonely out there, Potter. You’ve made your choice, go and lie in the bed you’ve made for yourself. It’s not like you’re not used to it!” With that Scorpius violently tears his arm free and leaves a gobsmacked Albus behind, his heart beating in time with the engine beneath his feet.

***

Albus and Scorpius are standing beside each other, doing their best to ignore each other’s presence while assisting with the unloading of the cargo. Scorpius’ heavy motorcycle is the first item to pass over their heads before being carefully lowered to the quay a few metres from where they are standing. The machine is a piece of beauty; originally Muggle in design, Scorpius has put a lot of time and effort into it and while it might still resemble an old Muggle motorcycle, it is so much more. Scorpius goes and checks the machine to make sure flight and disillusion are working. He makes sure the saddlebags are fastened properly and then pushes the heavy machine off the wooden pedestal that was used to transport it and onto the quay, while Albus supervises the unloading of the rest of their things.

Crate after indexed crate is shrunk and loaded into the saddlebags until the very last one that contained things Albus hadn’t been able to see. Scorpius opens the crate but glares at Albus when he tries to steal a glimpse of what is inside. Scorpius takes out what looks like a parachute and straps heavy leather bands across his chest, fixing it to his back. As soon as the clasps on the straps are closed the thing glows and shimmers and is then absorbed into the back of Scorpius’ coat. Albus doesn’t know whether to be glad for this or not, because while it will be more comfortable for him when riding pillion, being that close to someone who has chosen to distance himself so far in every other respect won’t be easy on him.

Albus glances at his watch before sliding it back into his waistcoat and taking out his aviator goggles and leather helmet. Depending on how fast or, in a worst case scenario, how high they are going, he will definitely need them both. When he has donned his helmet and goggles, he pulls on a pair of leather gloves, hiding the leather wristband he put back on this morning. Scorpius shrinks the last crate and puts it in his pocket before turning to the crew and Johanna who were assembled at the railing of the ship and waves in a grand gesture.

“Thanks for the ride! We’ll see you in a few days!” he shouts, before mounting the motorcycle and starting the engine. Albus hurries up to him, scared of what would happen if Scorpius actually takes off without him. Scorpius waits until Albus mounts the motorcycle behind him and sneaks his arms around his middle. Albus doesn’t dare hold on like he used to, but for some reason Scorpius will have none of that. He lets go of the handlebars and pulls on Albus’ arms until he fits snugly against him from behind, securing the hold of his hands at his front before reaching for the handlebars again.

The engine roars loudly as they race away from the quay and they take to the air before they have even left the harbour. Albus closes his eyes, remembering with a pang that this is not what it will be like for much longer. If Scorpius notices that Albus is holding on tighter than usual, or actually pressing his cheek into Scorpius’ warm back, he doesn’t show it.

***

The cold wind stings Albus’ cheeks and he wishes he had a better idea of where exactly to find his father. They have been both flying and driving for hours through a country that is criss-crossed by rivers and dotted with green meadows, glaciers and mountains alike. He can tell that Scorpius is getting frustrated with their lack of success. Scorpius sets the motorcycle down on a rocky beach that seems to stretch on forever, only ending where it is met by a glacier. Beyond the glacier the sky suddenly lights up, promising more rain and wind and cold. If they don’t find his father soon, they will have to seek shelter.

Scorpius turns off the engine and Albus lets go of him reluctantly. They both climb off the motorcycle, stretching their legs and arms, now and again looking up at the darkening sky. Thunder rumbles in the distance and they know it won’t be long before the first heavy raindrops will begin to fall. Scorpius leans against a large chunk of ice, his arms across his chest and his feet lazily crossed at the ankles. The sun breaks through the clouds and lights the ice behind him, illuminating his face and the few strands of pale blond hair that have freed themselves from his leather helmet. He looks like a vision and for a moment Albus’ mind superimposes the image of a blue angel over what his eyes see and he lets out a shocked gasp. Right then the cloud cover closes again and the sun is cut off. Reality is far bleaker and Albus shakes off the vision. It is impossible, merely a projection of his own loneliness onto the object of his affection.

“So, where is he then?” Scorpius says in a cold voice, destroying the vision in Albus’ mind entirely.

“I've already told you, Scorpius,” he would be damned if he stopped using his given name, “I don’t know. I’ve made some calculations and some educated guesses, but I’ve run out of ideas.”

“I knew there was no point in bringing you along. You’re positively useless!”

Albus is tired of fighting.

“Can we not do this please? I don’t know what it is you think I did wrong, but can we just get through this? This is hard enough as it is.” Albus says imploringly.

“Well, it looks like we’ll have to seek shelter soon, anyway, if we can’t find him now. Unless you’ve got another bright idea?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t. I’ll set up the tent over there, alright?”

Scorpius nods in reply and then wanders off along the shore. Albus watches him until he has become too small to make out against the dark pebbles on the shore. It doesn’t take long to set up the tent. It is mostly a Muggle contraption and not magically-enhanced because they have had some bad experiences with magically-enhanced gear during their travels to magical hot spots. There is barely enough room inside this tent for two sleeping bags.

Albus sets up one of the magical lanterns outside so Scorpius can find his way back, even from afar. Before crawling into the tent to get some rest, Albus covers the motorcycle and casts a series of wards around their campsite.

Heavy rain is beating on the thin fabric of the tent and the wind is making the motorcycle cover flap loudly. There is still no sign of Scorpius, but Albus refuses to worry about him. He turns on his side, face towards the shaking canvas, undecided on whether he hopes for one of his special dreams that night or not. Even though Albus tries to keep his mind away from Scorpius, he doesn’t manage more than a light doze until the tent flap is carefully opened and then fastened again. Someone is rummaging around the other sleeping bag, most likely crawling into it and trying to find a comfortable position in which to sleep.

There they lie, facing away from each other, both unable to sleep because of the unresolved tension and the weather raging on outside. And Albus thinks how silly it all is. Somehow they have managed to get into this situation both of their backs to the wall and how did that even happen? Now neither of them knows how to get out of it.

A pebble or piece of twig is digging painfully into Albus’ side, but he doesn’t dare turn over in case Scorpius misinterprets his intentions. Eventually he gets used to it and the constant patter of the rain slowly lulls him to sleep. He wakes only once during the night, the tent is lit up by several lightning bolts beating down in rapid succession, thunder following almost instantly. Scorpius has turned over and spooned up behind him. They fit snugly together and Scorpius’ left arm is slung possessively over Albus’ middle. Scorpius’ breath against Albus’ neck is slow and steady, indicating that he is fast asleep and probably unaware of his position.

Albus can’t find it in himself to regret what is happening and carefully snuggles further into the embrace. During the dark hours of the night it is always so very easy to pretend that everything is alright with the world. He feels content as he falls asleep, without craving his dream lover’s touch.

***

Warm sunlight filters through the open tent flap, tickling Albus’ face and waking him. He is alone. He stretches and yawns as the light of day disperses the last shreds of his dreams, which, as far as he remembers, had something to do with a dancing tea pot and six purple giraffes.

From outside, the scent of freshly made coffee sends its tendrils into the tent and, like a fish on a line that is slowly drawn in, he follows it. Scorpius sits cross-legged by a small fire, preparing two small cups while their trusty _caffettiera_ happily bubbles away on the large stone tablet Scorpius had arranged in the middle of the fire for exactly that purpose.

Albus sits down as far away from Scorpius as possible and begins cutting off two slices of bread and a bit of cheese for each of them. He is going through the motions of what their life used to be like, pretending there is meaning to it. Scorpius pours the espresso, puts two spoonfuls of sugar into Albus’ cup and stirs three times before getting up, walking over to Albus and crouching down beside him. He hands over the cup wordlessly and takes his own slice of bread and cheese. Albus cannot help but smile at the familiarity.

“Thanks.”

Scorpius only grunts in response, but it is so close to his usual pre-caffeine demeanour that it makes Albus smile all the more. They eat their breakfast in silence and when they are done, Scorpius uncovers and checks the motorcycle while Albus packs up their things. 

When everything is stored away, Albus steps beside Scorpius who is poring over a map he has got spread out over the saddle of the motorcycle. It is one of his own maps, which means if one is wearing the right gloves, which he is, one can zoom in, move details around and plot courses on the parchment. The map tracks where one has been and even has a search grid function, which will colour any part of a designated search area the map and its holder have already been to. Also, and Scorpius has never failed to point this out, it is waterproof and can be easily shrunk to the size of a stamp.

“I was thinking we’ve pretty much covered most of this area here.” Scorpius indicates the large light blue area on the map. “We should try flying a search grid over this part here. It’s mostly rivers and beaches, but that’s why we skipped them yesterday.”

Albus leans closer to the map as he spots something.

“What about this part?”

Scorpius leans in closer and, when he cannot make it out properly, uses his gloves, putting both forefingers on the spot and moving them apart quickly. What has only been a tiny unmarked spot before now is a large, perfectly round area on the map that was in the middle of their already covered search area.

“What the hell?” Scorpius says incredulously.

“I think they’re Muggle and wizarding repelling wards. We can’t risk Apparition, but we can fly as close as possible and then walk the rest of the way. I’m pretty convinced that my wand is keyed in to the wards in case of emergency.”

“Let’s do it.” Scorpius is already packing up the map while he is speaking. He pulls his regular gloves on over the others and mounts the heavy motorcycle. Albus pulls the aviator goggles over his eyes and climbs on behind him. This time Scorpius doesn’t have to make Albus hold on to him properly, because he does so anyway and without thinking about it twice.

It doesn’t take them long to reach the area. They put the motorcycle on its stand and carefully approach. Albus can feel his hair stand on end the closer the come to the wards. Scorpius is walking in front of him and he suddenly comes careening back into Albus as if he had been pushed away by an invisible attacker. Scorpius quickly disentangles himself from Albus. Albus feels his heart ache in misery, after the almost normal interaction they have had so far, he thought that at least the awkwardness would be something they could leave behind.

Albus steps forward slowly, counting the steps until he can feel the wards humming all around him. One more step takes him through them and he turns around to see Scorpius looking confused.

“Potter, where the fuck did you go?” His shout sounds oddly muffled.

Albus walks back through the wards and up to Scorpius.

“Come on, I think I know how to do it.”

He takes Scorpius’ hand and drags the resisting man after him. This time both of them pass through the wards easily. About a hundred metres from where they are standing is a small cottage, its walls made up of white painted wooden boards, a plume of smoke merrily rising from the chimney into the cold air. Albus drops Scorpius hand suddenly and begins walking towards the house, Scorpius following closely behind.

When they reach the red door, Albus hesitates for a single moment, before knocking loudly. Even though he should have known what to expect, when his father throws open the door, black circles under his eyes and wand pointed unwaveringly at his youngest son’s chest, Albus takes an involuntary step back, bumping into Scorpius, who has trouble keeping them both upright.

“What do you want?”

“Hi Dad.”

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

**Scorpius Malfoy - Several Months ago**

The pistol felt good in his hand. It was solid and warm where he had gripped it for the last ten minutes, aiming it at random things but never pulling the trigger. Destroying inanimate objects just wasn’t as fun as it used to be; besides, the lecture he would receive afterwards would seriously interfere with his drinking. The drinking - there had been quite a lot of it. There were only so many things one could build, repair and read and only so many miles one could run, fly or ride until creativity or one’s body gave out. Drinking, however, required only a modicum of energy; it required a place to sit, a certain level of wakefulness and an endless supply of alcohol. None of those things were hard to come by in Malfoy Manor.

Alcohol hadn’t been Scorpius’ first choice; hell, it hadn’t even been on the list of things that he had considered in his miserable restlessness. While Albus was poring over the scrolls they had brought back from the Himalayas, Scorpius was left with nothing much to do. 

At first he had thought he could bear the waiting, the anticipation and fear. When he found he couldn’t, he had turned to his workshop to distract him. After a few days he had given up, feeling uninspired. Scorpius had paced a veritable hole into the carpet and driven Albus bonkers with his constant deliveries of snacks and coffee and his incessant questioning about everything he did. Eventually, Albus had kicked him out of his lab and warded the door so nobody but he could get inside.

Even then Scorpius hadn’t given up. He had taken the motorcycle apart and put it back together; it had never been in better shape. He had ridden all the horses, flown more manoeuvres and Wronski Feints than a Seeker would in his entire Quidditch career and gone running along the borders of the Malfoy property more often than he had in his entire lifetime. Nothing seemed to help. Sleep was not to be found and he was running out of all the other pesky things one could choose to fill their endless supply of time with. But it wasn’t endless. Time was running out even faster than Scorpius realised. 

Then there was something else, a voice. At first Scorpius had thought he was hallucinating, because honestly, who heard voices these days? Disembodied voices that talked to you tended to come from disillusioned people, from behind shielding charms or beyond invisibility cloaks. Sometimes they belonged to ghosts or portraits. However they weren’t the kind of voices who would say, “only you can hear me” and then laugh before going on and on about how they were too far away from their power centre and only someone who had defeated them or proven themselves worthy was able to perceive them until they returned.

Scorpius didn’t hate the voice, hate was too strong a word, but the constant verbal hair-pulling and belittling of his person as well as the voice’s apparent constant yearning for knowledge and experiences got on his nerves. Its attempts to live vicariously through Scorpius drove him up the wall. The never-ending litany of “what are you doing, what is that for, why don’t you do something about this?” was something he couldn’t manage to drown out, not even in his sleep. Soon there were dark circles beneath his eyes and he looked haunted and harassed. The irony of that statement when spoken aloud by Albus wasn’t lost on Scorpius. He was too worried that he was, in fact, going around the bend to talk to his best friend about it. Besides, he had more important things to worry about.

Getting pissed had not been his first choice. After he found out that nothing would satisfy the voice at the back of his head, that no amount of pleading, yelling, begging and moping around would make it shut up, he had eventually turned to booze. After running out of ideas – because honestly, trying to have a wank while someone commented derogatorily on his technique was the biggest turn-off ever – Scorpius had taken a swig of Firewhiskey. He was horny, he was miserable and there was nothing he could do about either of those. When the voice commented on how vile that must taste, he took another mouthful, just out of spite. The voice grew quieter the more he drank. It didn’t fall silent - it kept telling him about how he was a disgrace to his ancestors and how it should never have imparted the knowledge on someone so unworthy - but the shouting eventually died down to a barely audible humming noise that was easily ignored.

That was how it had all started. 

It didn’t take Scorpius long until he knew just how pissed he needed to be to drown out the voice. Unfortunately, his creativity returned with a vengeance and soon their entire living room was covered in random useless things, made up of whatever Scorpius had had at hand when he began his project. The life-sized naked sculpture of Michelangelo’s David, who Scorpius had decided needed to be more than well-endowed, was what got Scorpius his first serious talking-to from Albus in weeks. It wasn’t even the huge penis, or the fact that the sculpture took up most of the staircase leading up to Albus’ quarters that he took offence to. It was the fact that Scorpius had used the entire Encyclopædia Britannica that Albus’ father had given him for Christmas the year before for papier-mâché.

After that he had limited his alcohol intake, but once the voice spoke up again and asked why he wasn’t having make-up sex with Albus after that fight, he had gone right for the bottle again. Scorpius had just finished building a Mayan stepped pyramid complete with altar stone, procession way and tiny figurines walking towards the pyramid out of beer cans, toothpicks and corks, when he heard the voice again.

_Don’t you think it’s time you stopped this nonsense and actually did something useful?_

Scorpius grabbed the pistol that lay on the table and aimed it at where the voice seemed to have come from but, like the last ten or more times, there was nothing to see. Still, it took all of his self control to not pull the trigger. He put it down again and knelt beside his creation, like a child would beside its sandcastle by the sea.

“No!” Scorpius said decisively. “Besides, it can’t be you. I killed you with beer! Look, there’s proof!” He indicated the beer cans in front of him.

 _Oh really? Do you think I’d allow that to happen to me? Don’t you think I know of your species’ disturbing affinity to fermented beverages?_ the voice asked dryly.

“Don’t know, don’t care. Go away!”

_I’m afraid that’s not an option anymore. I can’t return to where I was before. You set things in motion._

“Do shut up! Honestly, whoever or whatever you are, could you just piss off? Life sucks enough as it is without having you yammering away inside my head all the time.”

_I do not yammer, I merely-_

“Which part of shut up didn’t you understand?” Scorpius interrupted.

“Alright, Captain Spectacular, if you’ve got your grumpy-pants on, I’ll not tell you.”

“I thought I told you to… Al? When did you come in?” Scorpius hadn’t even noticed that Albus had entered the room.

_Serves you right. Shame on you and shame on your descendants._

“I won’t ever have descendants. If you keep this up, I’ll cut my own wrists,” Scorpius yelled, addressing the voice. “Al! Don’t step on the miniature Mayans; they’re just getting ready to sacrifice some random tosser who didn’t know when to shut up.”

“Scorpius, I have no idea what’s going on, but I think you need help,” Albus said quietly.

 _No shit, Sherlock! And that’s news since when?_ the voice said, every syllable dripping with sarcasm.

“Shhhhh! For fuck’s sake, can’t you see I’m talking to my friend? Al, give me the Firewhiskey!”

“I don’t think so.”

_As if that’s going to help._

“Shut up, both of you!”

“Are you trying to be funny, because this isn’t funny! Are you sure you’re alright?” Albus walked over and hesitantly reached for Scorpius.

“No, I’m bloody well not alright!” he shouted. “It’s him, he won’t shut up!”

Scorpius knocked his finger against his forehead repeatedly, before rubbing his hands up and down the sides of his face until the skin was red and radiating heat. When he looked at Albus he saw nothing but worry and a tinge of fear in his eyes. What a picture he must make, ranting to himself and walking up and down agitatedly. If he wasn’t careful, Albus would stun him and examine him. But that would take time, time they didn’t have, and Scorpius wasn’t crazy. Or was he?

_Well, if suffering from stupidity makes you crazy, then sure, you are._

Scorpius turned away from Albus and bit into his lower lip so much it hurt, before turning around again. His fists were at his sides, opening and closing repeatedly, trying to channel his energy into something other than the ranting that could only sound insane.

“I’m sorry, Al. What were you going to tell me?”

“I’m not sure now is the right time. You seem more out of it than usual. Let me just…” Albus pointed his wand at the pyramid in front of them but was interrupted by Scorpius before he could vanish it.

“No! That’s art. Don’t touch it!” Scorpius crouched before it, looking lovingly down at his cork and tooth pick Mayans and their procession up the steps towards the altar at the top of the pyramid. “They’re not done yet; they have to finish their mission.”

Scorpius was still looking intently at what he had created when someone crouched down beside him. Albus’ hands were on his shoulders and he was squeezing them gently. For once the voice was silent of its own accord.

“Scorpius.” Albus’ voice was gentle. “You’re definitely not alright. I’m worried about you. I don’t know when the last time you actually got a full night’s sleep was. Come on.” Another squeeze. “Let me help you.”

Scorpius let himself fall to his knees between the V of Albus’ thighs and cling to them. He pressed his forehead against the side of Albus’ neck and breathed in his scent. And, like so many times before, Albus just let him take comfort, without ever asking anything in return. Albus’ hands were warm and reassuring as they stroked Scorpius’ back. Their position was uncomfortable and awkward, because Scorpius’ entire weight was leaning against Albus, his crouch unable to support it without shaking, but Scorpius couldn’t seem to move. One of Albus’ hands moved up to cup Scorpius’ neck, holding him steady. He wanted to cry but couldn’t; the knot inside his chest refused to loosen.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up,” Albus said. 

Scorpius nodded, feeling his cheek brush against the light stubble on Albus’ cheek as he slowly raised his head. Albus helped him up and then walked Scorpius towards his bedroom and ensuite. Scorpius already knew that the living room would be devoid of his works of art - and their flat of alcohol - if he let Albus have his way. Somehow, he found he didn’t mind. Albus was here to take care of him, that was all that mattered. In front of him Albus turned on the shower, holding his hand under the stream of water to check the temperature before turning to Scorpius.

“Get undressed and give me your clothes. I’m not sure we can get them clean again.” He sniffed the shirt Scorpius handed him and then held it away from himself as far as possible. “Maybe burning them is a better idea.”

Once completely naked, Scorpius stepped under the spray and immediately began to shiver. He couldn’t seem to move and just let the water cascade over him, beating at his skin.

“Oh for the love of…”

Scorpius eyes were closed and he almost missed the sound of fabric hitting the tiles before Albus joined him in the shower stall. Scorpius had to resist the urge to lean back against Albus’ naked chest, to seek comfort in the only other way he knew how. But he couldn’t take advantage of his best friend’s good will. He shouldn’t. Albus reached past him and Scorpius kept his eyes closed. The water above him slowed to a weak slide along his shivering frame. He was still trembling when Albus touched his back. He was holding a soft wet flannel and was running it up and down Scorpius’ back and arms, both massaging the tension out of his muscle as well as cleaning him thoroughly. Scorpius was spun around and similar ministrations continued down his front. His entire body hummed with Albus’ proximity and he had to reach out and hold on to Albus’ arms to steady himself.

He didn’t know how much time had passed and he could have sworn that Albus was taking longer than was normal, but just when he was about to open his eyes and ask Albus about it, the flannel and the smooth stroking motion disappeared. Before he could find out what was going on, Albus’ hands were back, this time in Scorpius’ hair, carding through the wet strands and massaging his scalp. His entire skin hummed with the wonderful sensation of Albus’ fingers on his scalp and he couldn’t help the moan that escaped him. Scorpius’ eyes flew open and he stared at Albus, the tension between them tangible. Albus’ fingers tightened in his hair and then continued as if nothing had transpired. He held Scorpius’ gaze until it was time to turn him around and rinse the shampoo from his hair.

They were quiet for the rest of it, Albus trying to calm Scorpius through the slow strokes of his hands and Scorpius letting him. Eventually Albus turned off the hot spray and stepped out of the shower, taking one of the large fluffy towels and handing it to Scorpius as he followed, while a sizeable puddle had already collected around his feet. Only when Scorpius was comfortably wrapped up in his towel did Albus take care of himself, casting a quick drying spell on his soaked boxers and clothes and putting them back on without looking at Scorpius.

Scorpius felt like he truly saw his friend for the first time; truly saw what made him unique. Standing there cocooned in his giant towel he could appreciate how much the man meant to him. It felt liberating to admit, if only to himself. Albus was his everything. The same seemed to hold true where Scorpius was concerned, if Albus’ behaviour towards him was any indication. He was handed his pyjamas without another word and couldn’t help but smile when he realised that Albus had heated them with a charm before handing them over.

After tucking him in and closing the blinds, Albus left and Scorpius lay awake pondering. The voice had, thankfully, gone quiet, even though Scorpius was slowly sobering up. Maybe it had discovered a shred of decency in its personality and decided to leave him alone for the time being. Scorpius didn’t feel lonely, despite being by himself; he felt at peace and wrapped up in the certainty of what he had allowed himself to admit. He slowly drifted off into a deep and dreamless sleep.

***

_Wake up you beast!_

“What?” Scorpius mumbled sleepily.

 _Momentous events are afoot, you need to be awake to find out what’s going on. They will be here presently. Make haste!_ The voice inside his head was going insane with excitement and had slipped back into its archaic mode of speech.

Scorpius made a rude reply and turned over, trying to fall asleep again.

 _Come, come! You have rested plenty._ The voice wouldn’t leave him alone. From experience he knew it would only get worse from here on in.

“Alright, alright!”

Scorpius slowly swung his legs out of bed, immediately missing the warmth when his feet touched the cold floor. He grabbed a shirt and trousers and quickly got dressed. Somebody – probably Albus – had laid a couple of letters and articles on his bedside table on top of a coffee mug that reheated itself as he watched. Scorpius reached for it like a starving man. He downed one large gulp, or tried to, but had to spit most of it back into the mug because it had scorched his tongue and mouth.

“Shit!”

Coffee would have to wait. Grabbing his shoes and trying to put them on with his left hand and holding on to the pile of articles and letters with his right he tried for a minute to somehow also balance the coffee mug. After jumping around on one leg for a while, Scorpius realised he was doomed to failure, so folded the pile neatly in half and held it between his teeth, as the voice kept up his chant of _make haste, make haste_. He was still jumping up and down as he entered the living room and barely avoided colliding with Albus.

Albus’ eyebrow rose up in a manner so reminiscent of Scorpius’ own father that he couldn’t help but smile. It was no easy feat, what with carrying letters like a canine instead of like someone born with opposable thumbs.

“Mhop?” he asked around his mouthful of paper, as if trying to say ‘have you never seen a man get dressed before?’

It was starting to get more difficult to keep up the jumping without spilling coffee or any of the pieces of paper. Scorpius pushed the mug into Albus’ hand and now with both hands free had no trouble tying his shoes without making an ass of himself. Not that the latter wasn’t a regular occurrence in their home.

With both feet safe on the ground, Scorpius removed the slightly wet mail from his mouth and put it on the kitchen counter, before holding out his hand for his coffee. Albus handed it over wordlessly.

“Good morning to you, too,” Scorpius said cheerfully, making a second more successful attempt at introducing his caffeinated beverage of choice into his system. 

“I can’t believe it’s actually morning and we’re both here,” Scorpius added. They had both been so wrapped up in their own minds and worries recently that they hardly spent any time with each other. “What’ve you got for me today?”

“Finally ready to take on some responsibility are we?”

“It’s not like I have a choice,” Scorpius said, feeling guilty. “You’re still angry with me?”

Albus sighed. “Not really.”

_Ask him! Ask him what he found out!_

“What’s been going on, Al?”

“Well, we’ve had to reschedule a lot of meetings due to your father’s condition and recently there has been no one to pick up the slack.” It was a gentle reprimand and Scorpius was grateful for it. He nodded, acknowledging it.

“What’ll happen now?”

“You’ve got an appointment with Teddy Lupin at eleven, if you’re up for it. He needs you to sign a few documents. He’s been acting as head of the company in your and your father’s absence, but there’s only so much he can do.”

_Ask him!_

“Alright, I can do that, but first I’m going to see Father,” Scorpius said. “I haven’t been to see him in too long and…” He fell silent. Albus squeezed his arm gently, as if he understood what was going on inside his best friend.

“It’s alright, Scorpius. He knows you love him.”

_For fuck’s sake, are you deaf? Ask him, right now!_

“So, have you found out anything new?” Scorpius said, trying for nonchalance but failing miserably.

“Nothing I want to share with you right now; only tedious details about how well the translation is not going.” Albus stopped and looked up guiltily, as if he hadn’t meant to say the last bit. “I’m very close to a breakthrough, I can feel it. It’s only a question of days now.” He clutched the books and sheets of parchment he had been holding the whole time to his chest. “I should really get back to…”

“Al, come on, sit down. Have coffee with me. I’m sure the translation can wait another twenty minutes.”

 _Are you completely insane?_ The voice raged. _I told you to ask him! Time is of the essence you entitled…_ At this point Scorpius stopped listening altogether. Whoever the voice thought it was it definitely wasn’t ready to deal with a Scorpius Malfoy hell-bent on taking control of his life again. After a bit of prompting, Albus began to tell Scorpius what he had been able to glimpse from the scrolls they had brought back from the caverns so far.

“So, basically it’s all about these crystal skulls that were made to heal or rejuvenate any creature. They were made so long ago that their names were forgotten hundreds of years ago, but at least we know that there were thirteen of them. Most of the scrolls appear to be a chronicle of where the skulls were stored. They contain descriptions of their power and use. Even the temple we found housed one for several centuries, but it was destroyed when those creatures you saw invaded the city and killed everyone inside. It would seem the last to escape couldn’t reach the scrolls. They tried to seal the caves, but left the potion behind in case they ever got the chance to go back and retrieve them.”

“But where are they now?” Scorpius asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think anybody does really. It’s just one of those great civilisations that simply vanished without explanation. It looks like they just up and left. It’s strange really, considering they must have been one of the most powerful magical civilisations this planet has ever brought forth. So far I’ve only been able to determine that they seemed to gravitate towards magical hotspots, but I don’t know why. There are too many hot spots all over the world for us to search them all, which is why I have to finish the translation. I believe that if we can get our hands on such a skull we could actually cure your father. It said in the texts that it can cure any illness, Muggle or magical. I’m convinced that it will put a stop to the drain on Draco’s magical core and if we’re the tiniest bit lucky, will return him to full health in no time.”

And there it was again, Albus’ concern for Scorpius’ father. Jealousy wound around his heart like a snake and he could feel his face grow rigid. He wanted Albus, wanted him badly, but what if Albus’ only concern was truly for his father, like he had hinted at in his diary? What if he was only being nice to Scorpius because he had brotherly feelings for him? After all, Albus had written that he felt like they were family.

“I should really get back,” Albus said after draining the last of his coffee. He didn’t seem to have noticed the change in Scorpius’ demeanour. Scorpius could tell that Albus was already miles away, as he gave a small wave and disappeared downstairs. 

Albus could never know. From now on Scorpius would have to hide that part of himself away. If Albus ever found out he would be disgusted with what he saw. He was just about ready to reach for one of the bottles he had hidden again, when his pocket watch gave a distinct chime. If he wanted to see his father, he had to leave right now.

***

The room was darkened so as not to irritate Draco’s eyes. One of the first symptoms to emerge after his collapse was a heightened sensitivity to light. Scorpius navigated his way through the room more by memory than by sight. It didn’t take him long to reach his father’s bedside. Draco spent most of his time sleeping. He would occasionally have reports from the company sent over and read them by the dim light of a candle, but even these waking periods were becoming less and less frequent. He looked frail, his skin almost translucent in the dim light.

The chair beside the bed was uncomfortable and Scorpius forwent it in favour of sinking down onto the bed beside his father. He took his cold, dry hand into his own and squeezed it. His father had changed so much since he had last seen him and it broke Scorpius’ heart to see such a strong man brought down to such a state. There was much he wanted to say to his father but couldn’t. Some of it he shouldn’t. Even while he sat there, looking down at his father and holding his hand, he envied him Albus’ affection. Part of him wished Draco would pass away so he could have Albus for himself and Scorpius hated himself for it. To be in a position of having to choose between the man he loved and his only family was going to destroy him.

“Why did it have to be him?” he whispered.

Scorpius waited in vain for a reply he knew would never come and, even if it did, he didn’t know whether he actually wanted an answer. Too much time had passed and he was already running late for the meeting he had agreed to attend. He got up, brushed a strand of hair from his father’s forehead and placed a kiss there, before slipping quietly from the room without a backward glance.

***

  


[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/wantsunicorns/pic/00001x2r/)

  


The business with Teddy had been quickly taken care of. Scorpius had never wanted to be the head of the company and it was only the work of a moment to sign over some of those rights to Teddy so he could actually enforce the decisions he had had to make in Scorpius’ absence and run the company properly. That had been several days ago and Scorpius still didn’t regret it. He was an inventor, an adventurer even, but he wasn’t an accountant and, unlike Albus, he wasn’t able to display the level of self-discipline necessary to learn how to lead a company as large as Malfoy Industries.

Scorpius was sitting at the kitchen counter, drawing circles and random runes in the condensation on his glass of water. Albus would be proud of him. Not for wasting time, but for not going back to Firewhiskey. He had spent a lot of time sitting in the kitchen at any rate, doing nothing much. Not thinking, just staring into the distance as if somehow all his energy had been drained from him. He had been to see his father every day and while he was with him, the voice had been strangely quiet, unlike his inner turmoil which grew from day to day.

“Scorpius!”

Scorpius jumped as he heard his name and knocked over the glass he had been toying with. The puddle grew quickly and instead of doing something about it, Scorpius was fascinated by the uneven spread over the seemingly even material of the counter.

“Scorpius, I think I’ve got it!”

His name was followed by quick footsteps pounding up the stairs. When they reached the top, he finally looked up. Albus’ face was flushed with excitement and his chest was heaving. In his hand he was clutching a piece of paper that had obviously been torn from his notebook. As far as Scorpius could make out, there was not much on it.

“Look here!” Albus said excitedly and the piece of paper was shoved in Scorpius’ face. Up this close all he could make out were a few squiggles and lines that could be anything from a highly evolved maths equation to a pigeon that had stepped into ink and walked across the paper.

“What’s this, Al?”

“Coordinates! I think I know where we need to go to find the skull!”

 _Finally_ , the voice commented dryly. Scorpius ignored it.

“So, where is it?” he asked.

 _This is becoming a bad habit, you ignoring me,_ the voice chided him.

“You’re not gonna like it.”

“I don’t care, just tell me.”

“Central America.”

_Yes!_

Albus was right; Scorpius didn’t like it. Not that he had anything against Central America; it was just that with his luck lately, he would probably have to trek through a patch of tropical rainforest for the next ten days to reach his destination.

“When are we leaving?”

“I won’t be coming along this time. I’m sorry.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve been doing some further research into the blood samples I’ve collected. I think I can come up with a potion that might stabilise Draco’s condition. Besides, I’ve requested some family records related to your blood lines to be sent over. I want to keep researching alternate causes and cures for his illness just in case. I don’t want us to focus all our efforts on one thing and then not succeed because we ignored some important line of inquiry.”

 _No, no! He needs to go with you. You won’t succeed if it’s just you_ , the voice urged, but Scorpius only took one look at Albus and knew that resistance was futile.

“Alright. When am I leaving?”

“I’ve already plotted a course for you and as far as I know you’ve already taken the motorcycle out of storage a few weeks ago.”

“Yes, it’s ready to go.”

“Then you could leave right now, if you chose to. Just remember, it’s another magical hotspot. I marked the area of the map that’ll be mostly likely to hold the artefact and also pointed out the spot where you’ll have to go on foot.”

“That doesn’t sound particularly great. Why can’t I just fly in, like usual?”

“Do you remember that time we used a magically enhanced tent in a magical hotspot?”

“Vividly.”

“That’s why.”

“I see,” Scorpius said. He vanished the spilt water and glass and stood. “I’ll go get my things ready and then I’ll visit my father. Do you think the PFC will work where I’m going?”

“I don’t think so, but we can try. You should definitely bring your locator beacon though. One never knows what might happen and in an emergency I need to be able to find you.”

“I don’t need the beacon. I never lose anything, let alone get lost.”

“Honestly, Scorpius, you’d lose your arse if it didn’t come permanently attached to your person.” Albus smirked, but Scorpius couldn’t find it in himself to feel insulted. It wasn’t like Albus wasn’t right.

“I’d better get going,” Scorpius said.

Albus clasped his hand and then pulled him into a rough hug. The moment was over too soon and they stepped apart again.

“Good luck!”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll see you off later.”

Scorpius nodded and headed for his room to pack his things.

***

His bags were shrunk and neatly stored into the motorcycle’s saddle bags and he was dressed for the journey, his leather helmet and aviator-goggles already on his head. There was only one more thing left to do. It didn’t take Scorpius long to get to his father’s quarters. The door to his bedroom was open and the light from a single candle illuminated his father’s frail figure propped up against some pillows in the bed.

Scorpius could hear voices and it took him a minute to recognise the people speaking. Albus was with his father. The jealousy was back in an instant and he felt ashamed because of it. He was just about to walk right back out again when the people inside the room became aware of him. The whispered conversation immediately stopped and Albus looked up guiltily and rose from Draco’s bedside.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll leave the two of you be. I was just taking another blood sample and testing his magical aura when he woke up and then we started talking, you know how it is,” Albus said and then quickly made his exit.

Scorpius stared after him. The two of them definitely had something to hide. It tore him up inside that he didn’t know for sure and couldn’t ask. Because how do you go about asking your father whether he has been having an affair with your best friend, whom you have secretly been wanting for yourself?

He swallowed his rage and jealousy and reluctantly turned back to his father who was beckoning him over.

“Hello Father!”

“Scorpius.”

“I wanted to say goodbye; I’m going to Central America for a bit.”

“I know. Albus told me.”

“Has he been here to see you a lot?” Scorpius asked, curious even though he dreaded the answer.

“Every day, as far as I can tell.”

“That’s nice,” Scorpius replied. He stared into space, unable to meet his father’s gaze lest he saw what Scorpius was so desperately trying to hide.

“Scorpius, are you alright?” Draco sounded concerned, which made Scorpius feel even guiltier; he shouldn’t upset a sick man just because he was having a hard time dealing with what he had just learned.

“Yes, Father, don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly alright,” Scorpius lied. “I’m merely concerned about the journey. It won’t be easy.”

“Scorpius, would you come over here and sit with me please?”

He complied without comment. The mattress gave way as he sat down and the linen felt cool and crisp under his fingers where he rested his weight on his hands.

“I need you to know, Scorpius, that I’m proud of you. I trust you to know what you’re doing. I wouldn’t ever want another son because you are the best son any father could hope for. You are my son and I love you.”

“I…”

“It’s alright. I know we’ve never really talked about how we feel in this family. I’ve always felt this way and we’ve shown more through actions than words how we felt. But looking at what might happen I think decorum is a bit overrated, don’t you?”

“I guess…”

“What I want you to know is that no matter what happens, no matter whether this turns out to bring the cure we’re all hoping for or not, I’m proud of you. I’m proud of the boy you were and of the man you have become. Lying here every day has made me realise that life is shorter than we allow ourselves to accept. Don’t wait around any longer, Scorpius. Go find your happiness. Just give yourself that little push, take that leap of faith. I promise you, it’ll be worth it.”

“Father…”

“Come on, I’m not an old man, but I do want to know that you’ll allow yourself to be happy,” Draco said, taking Scorpius’ warm hand in his dry and cold one. “Promise me you’ll at least think about it.”

“I promise,” Scorpius said, squeezing his father’s hand and feeling his eyes mist over with emotion. He swallowed convulsively. “And you know, I-I… I feel the same way.” Scorpius looked away, unable to bear the intensity of the emotions he saw reflected in his father’s eyes.

“I know, Scorpius. I know.”

They sat in silence for a long time, until the grip of Draco’s hand grew slack. For a moment Scorpius panicked, but when he looked closely, he could still see his father’s pulse fluttering along the veins of his neck. He tucked Draco in carefully and kissed his forehead, whispering his farewells. It was time to go. For better or worse, he had to leave for Central America.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

**Albus Severus Potter - Present Day**

“Albus?” his father says disbelievingly and then when he sees Scorpius, “What is he doing here?” Harry steps forward threateningly and Albus cannot suppress the urge to step between them, shielding Scorpius from his dad’s aggression.

“I ask again, what’re you doing here, Malfoy?” Harry addresses Scorpius directly this time. “I thought I’d told you to never show your face again and to keep your filthy hands off my son! What makes you think you’re welcome here now?” Harry advances on them with his wand drawn and Albus stumbles into Scorpius again as he tries to get out of his father’s way.

“Oh, but he likes me around, don’t you, Al?” Scorpius squeezes Albus’ shoulders and then of all things strokes his cheek, making cooing noises. Albus can see his father’s already furious expression turn even darker. He looks almost apoplectic.

“How dare you!” Harry charges forward and Scorpius, using Albus as a shield moves them backwards across the front porch, trying not to leave himself open to attack.

“Well, if you’d give us a pint of your blood, we could be out and about again. The Precious Saviour is not exactly fit to be in company. Are those spirits I smell on your breath, Mr. Potter? Bad form, Mr. Potter, very bad form indeed!”

Albus absently wonders whether Scorpius has a death wish or something. That is not how they are going to get what they want. They have reached the end of the front porch and there is nowhere left to go. Scorpius’ left arm is slung around Albus’ middle, pressing him against his chest, while Scorpius’ wand arm is stuck out beneath Albus’ right arm, pointing at Harry unwaveringly. He can feel Scorpius’ heart racing at his back, even through the thick fabric of both their coats.

“What the fuck?” Albus shouts, wondering if everyone around him has just gone mad. The unlit bulbs above them start to sizzle and crackle and light themselves as his father is beginning to lose control of his magic.

“Albus, be quiet!” both of them say, for once agreeing on something.

“No! I bloody well won’t be quiet. I won’t be part of this infantile display of temper and testosterone any longer!” Albus frees himself from Scorpius’ hold and brushes the creases from his coat. “I’ll go inside now and make myself a cup of tea and when you’re done trying to kill each other you’ll be lucky if I’ll help you pick up the pieces.” Albus crosses the porch to the front door and opens it. He looks around the door once more and both his father and Scorpius are looking almost comical with their wands still drawn and wearing matching gobsmacked expressions. “Oh and Dad? You’d better get a grip on your magic, before you blow us all to smithereens.” Without another word, he steps inside.

The inside of the house is surprisingly homely and warm. Albus takes off his gloves, listening to the loaded silence outside. Suddenly it is disturbed by a chorus of “this is all your fault!” and then the distinct noises of a scuffle as his father completely oversteps duelling protocol and, by the sound of it, tackles Scorpius to the floor.

“I can still hear you!” Albus shouts and his words are followed by an embarrassed sort of silence. He grabs himself a mug of hot tea and draws a chair up by the fire to wait.

He doesn’t have to wait long before both his father and Scorpius come inside looking sheepish and anywhere but at each other. Scorpius has a split lip and a bloody nose and Harry is sporting what will soon be a very impressive black eye. They both stand there looking angry and the air is thick with tension. 

Albus knows it is only a question of time until things will heat up again. He gets up without a word and walks over to where they are both trying to not shuffle their feet and look away from his furious gaze. When he reaches Scorpius he takes his chin in hand less than gently and turns his face this way and that, looking at the injuries he sustained and then walks over to his father inspecting the eye that is already swelling shut.

“He started it,” Scorpius says and is immediately drowned out by Harry’s shout of rage.

“Quiet, both of you!” Albus thunders shocking them both into silence. “Give me your wands, now!” He holds out his hand demandingly. Both wands are passed to him grudgingly and he pockets them without another word.

“You,” he says, pointing at his father and then indicating his recently vacated chair by the fire, “sit down. And you,” he goes on, taking Scorpius by the shoulder and pushing him towards the kitchen, “with me!” They both try to protest.

“I don’t want to hear it!”

Once in the kitchen, Albus makes Scorpius sit down by the heavy wooden table in the centre. He hands him a piece of cloth to hold to his bleeding nose. Scorpius takes it gratefully, letting his head fall forwards, too used to things like these to make much of a fuss.

“Wait here.”

Albus walks over to the fridge and grabs a slice of reindeer meat. Back in the living room he hands it to his father and tells him to lean his head back and cover his eye with it. It is already swollen shut.

“Leave it on there until I come back. I’ll take care of it properly in a bit.”

Albus returns to the kitchen and finds Scorpius hasn’t moved. In the last five minutes there has been a strange shift in power in their relationship and Albus is convinced that Scorpius doesn’t dare disobey his commands. Rummaging through his coat pockets, Albus carefully takes out his first aid kit, placing it on the table and resizing it with a flick of his wand. A clean square of white cotton is quickly produced and wetted beneath the tap.

Albus drags a chair over to Scorpius and sits down with his knees on either side of him. He meticulously wraps the piece of cotton around his forefinger, pressing the rest of it against the palm of his right hand. Taking Scorpius’ chin in his left, much gentler this time, he leans in close and begins to carefully dab at his lip. The cut is deep and the surrounding tissue is bruised so badly that Albus will have to heal it magically. 

Taking out his wand, he moves in even closer, resting his weight on Scorpius’ thigh, which is warm and firm beneath his fingers. Their legs accidentally touch and the mood shifts when neither of them pulls away.

“This-,” Albus swallows and goes on, “this might hurt a bit.” 

Scorpius only nods in reply and his mouth falls open slightly when Albus touches his split lip with his wand. Albus wants to run his thumb over it, feel the plump softness beneath his fingers; wants to draw it into his mouth with his teeth, nibble and lick at it, before claiming Scorpius’ mouth in a kiss. His focus is entirely caught by Scorpius’ lips and he leaves his wand pressed against them for far too long, too distracted to even utter the spell to heal the cut, but Scorpius doesn’t seem to mind. He looks up and is suddenly trapped in Scorpius’ heated gaze. Scorpius has never looked at him like this before, not even that night after Albus brought him home from the hospital. The silence is loaded with promise and something indefinable. Albus can feel the warmth of Scorpius’ thighs seeping into his hand. He is concentrating so hard on not moving his hand up the hard muscle that he can’t stop his thumb stroking across the soft material of Scorpius’ trousers. 

Albus can feel himself trembling with need and want and fear. He is terrified down to his very core, but he can’t move so much as an inch away, Scorpius’ gaze won’t let him. Scorpius is still holding the bloodied piece of cloth in his hand, by his face. Out of nowhere his other hand covers Albus’. He half-expects it to stop him or push him away, but instead it guides his hand forward, and up. Albus swallows convulsively when he realises where this is headed.

“If you two are done eye fucking each other, I’d like an explanation,” Harry says, leaning against the door frame and lazily swinging the piece of reindeer meat back and forth.

The tension between them breaks and they jump apart. Albus looks down, feeling his cheeks heat in mortification and Scorpius stares up at Harry defiantly. Avoiding Scorpius’ eyes, Albus busies himself packing up his things and vanishes the soiled pieces of cloth with a quick flick of his wand. Ignoring his father, he steps up to Scorpius and heals both his lip and nose in one swift motion.

Quickly casting an imploring look at Scorpius, Albus finally turns to his father.

“Dad, there’s something we need to talk about, the sooner the better. Could we maybe go outside?”

***

The air is cold and much clearer than Albus has ever seen it. Green meadows and craggy hills and rocks stretch until the horizon. There are large blue patches of lupins among the green, their sturdy stems moving gently in the breeze. The first stars dot the skies in the distance and the entire scene fills Albus with a sense of tranquillity he has missed for too long. He leans on the banister at the side of the porch, as far away from the earlier scuffle as possible. Smoke slowly rises from the end of his lit cigarette into the still evening air and on his right a waterfall gushes and whispers, its voice carrying easily over the small body of water it tumbles into to Albus.

Harry joins him out there and for a while they just stand in quiet contemplation. Albus takes a drag from his cigarette and exhales lazily, following the smoke’s trail with his eyes until it dissipates in front of the ever darker sky. Harry doesn’t push him and he is grateful for it. They are barely able to make out the flowers on the far side of Harry’s property when Albus finally speaks, his cigarette having gone out long before.

“I’ve missed you.” Albus cards a hand through his hair in a gesture of unrest as he speaks. He can’t even make himself look at his father, his emotions too raw and close to the surface for such a dangerous thing as eye contact.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just had to get away.”

“I understand, it’s just - things haven’t been easy.”

“How are Lily and James?”

“They’re alright, I guess. I spend most of my time at work or travelling. We haven’t really been close in recent years.” Albus wants to say that he regrets not keeping in touch with people, and on some level he does. But even now, with the inevitable end of his time with Scorpius so very close, he cannot regret that when faced with the choice of staying with his family and childhood friends or signing a contract at Malfoy Industries, he had chosen the latter. Despite all the grief and pain it has brought him in recent times, he still knows he would do it again. All of it.

Harry seems to sense that this topic is making Albus uncomfortable and changes the direction of his questioning.

“Lily writes to me from time to time. She seems to be doing okay, although I can sometimes detect a trace of your grandmother’s talent for meddling in her letters.” They both smile; nobody quite compares to Molly Weasley in full on “If you won’t fix your life, I’ll fix it for you” mode.

“She does meddle, even though she’d be the first to deny any maternal instincts.” Albus is grinning now. He feels liberated by this easy exchange and it is like just being close to his father takes some of his every day burdens from his shoulders. Nobody puts him as much at ease as his father does, except Draco maybe, but that is on a completely different, less organic and more intellectual, level.

“I’m assuming you didn’t come all the way to see me to not talk about your siblings, Albus.” Harry stresses the 'not'.

Albus isn’t ready to discuss Draco with his father yet; he has no idea how he will react to the news or whether he even cares.

“Dad, I think I’m in trouble.”

“What do you mean?”

“My life. I don’t think I can go on like this.”

“So he did deserve a beating!” Harry says with satisfaction.

“Dad, please! This is hard enough.” Albus has trouble keeping his voice under control.

“Albus, what’s wrong? Tell me and we’ll find a way to fix it. I promise.” And there he finally is, Albus’ dad, the man that always listened to him when no one else would. The father who encouraged him and made him feel included, even though he was the odd one out, the only Ravenclaw in a house full of Gryffindors. Harry’s voice is caring and soft and Albus is taken right back to his childhood. He has a hard time holding back tears. They don’t touch or hug like they used to and if he regrets anything at all, it is this, allowing this distance to grow between them, barring him from such simple comforts as human contact.

“Scorpius and I, we’ve… things have changed and I don’t think… I don’t know how to work with him anymore. He doesn’t want me around, I’m sure of it, and I’ll have to find a new home and job and it’s like my whole life is falling apart.”

“That bastard! He was never good enough for you, Albus. As long as you were happy with him, who was I to interfere or question your judgement, but now that he’s hurt you, I won’t be quiet any longer. He’s just like his father-“

“Dad! What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the tosser that is right now warming his feet at my fire, despite the fact that he obviously broke my boy’s heart by being a complete and utter worthless fuckwit! I’m going to make him wish he was never born. He was never worthy of being with you, ever!” 

Harry’s sudden rage takes Albus completely by surprise. He cannot help but raise his voice in reply, shouting out words he never in his life would have considered even whispering in the quiet of his mind.

“He’s not my fucking boyfriend. We aren’t together, we never were and we never will be! He doesn’t see me… He doesn’t love…” While the first words are shouted so loud a flock of birds takes to the sky nearby, the last few are quieter and come out in choked sobs as Albus’ voice breaks. Hearing himself say them out loud makes their finality even more devastating.

His father looks stunned as if his entire view of the world has just been shattered. Albus is too close to tears to say anything else and he doesn’t even know why. He is a grown man and he shouldn’t cry, least of all in front of his father. 

Seeing him bared to his soul like that must have ignited the paternal instinct in Harry, because he steps up to Albus and envelopes him in a hug. Albus feels like a child again as he is pressed close to his father’s chest, which still smells like it used to when he was little. Harry is stroking his hair and making soothing noises, such as one would to a little child. That is probably what he will always be to Harry on some level, his youngest son, who was always more sensitive and needed more protection than any of his other children. Albus cries like he hasn’t in years and something about his father’s reassuring presence keeps the shame of breaking down like this at bay.

The sky is completely dark and covered in stars when Albus’ tears finally run dry. Harry beckons him over to a rustic bench that is covered in thick comfy looking cushions. They sit down beside each other; Harry is still drawing warm comfortable circles on Albus’ back, just like he had when Albus was home, sick with Dragon Pox or had had a nightmare.

“It’s not his fault, you know,” Albus says quietly.

“Whose fault?” Harry asks, even though he probably knows perfectly well whom his son is talking about.

“Scorpius. It’s not his fault that he can’t… can’t love me. Or that he never did. You can’t make yourself love someone, just because you want to. You can’t make yourself stop loving someone either.” It’s hard to get the words out, but Albus feels compelled to.

“Albus, listen to me. Everyone, and I mean every single person in your life who saw the two of you together, was convinced you were an item, even before you moved in together. Why do you think nobody was surprised when you came out to us? Anyone with eyes could see how much you meant to each other. I don’t like Scorpius, I really don’t, but it’s because of who he is and, perhaps to some extent, who his father is. I don’t really know him that well, if I’m completely honest and I probably shouldn’t judge him on what his father did in his youth, but I do. I do because of how he treated you. Because I can see you’re in pain and that’s nothing any parent wants to see. We want to see our children, if not happy, at least content and healthy.” Harry stops his stroking motion and takes hold of Albus’ forearm with both hands, before continuing. “There is someone out there for you, I’m sure of it. Someone that is worthy of you and that loves you the way you deserve to be loved. There is for everyone!”

“But why isn’t there someone for you, Dad?”

“There is. There was. But it wasn’t meant to be. We could never see eye to eye on anything.” Harry shakes his head at Albus’ questioning look and gets up, wearily carding his fingers through the mop of dark hair that is greying at the temples. “No, Albus, I’m not talking about your mother. I loved her, once, but not that way. Why don’t you sit out here a little longer and look at the stars? I’ll be right back.”

Sensing Harry’s need to collect himself, Albus only nods and does as he is told. He is amazed at how many stars he can see. This is what it must be like to go out into the desert somewhere and look at the sky. Albus gets up. It is only a few steps to the garden. He lies down, facing away from the house and looks up. Right now he can pretend he is nothing but a floating particle in the endless universe, stuck to one star for the moment, but only a blink away from setting off on his never-ending journey again. With no obstacles in his line of vision the sky seems positively endless. For once the feeling of utter insignificance that always overwhelms Albus when he looks at the stars and lets himself ponder the size of the universe, is something he welcomes. It makes his own problems seem tiny compared to the battles of particles out there, to suns exploding and taking their entire solar systems with them or collapsing in on themselves creating black holes that swallow everything from solid matter to light and possibly time.

The amount of smaller stars that are usually hidden above busy centres of civilisation is unfathomable and at first Albus has trouble finding the constellations he is familiar with. Eventually he identifies the plough and despite his earlier musings it fills him with relief as it gives him a sense of his place in this world.

When Albus was a little boy, he loved sitting in his room in Grimmauld Place, which was the highest room in the house, and gazing out of the window at the stars, imagining what it would be like to travel among them. Aunt Hermione had given him a telescope for his eighth birthday, and a book about the stars, their names and stories. That was how he had found out that most constellations had different names in different countries. His favourite was the one he had just discovered and his favourite name for it was the one used in Germany, 'The Chariot'. He could fill entire sleepless nights imagining racing across the sky in a chariot, rushing alongside the stars and comets and following the sunlight into another day.

While he is still contemplating all of this, and thinking about how easy it would be, even now, if he could just disappear, a shadow blocks out the stars above him. His father is back, two glasses in hand.

“Get off of the floor, Albus, you’ll catch a cold!” 

Albus cannot help but smile at the scolding tone. His hands are busy brushing dead grass and debris off his trousers and coat as he follows his father back to the bench they vacated earlier. Harry hands him a glass full of something warm that burns his throat when he takes a sip. It tastes like rum and lemons and is not bad at all.

“Dad, what’s this?”

“It’s called Grog. It’s what sailors used to drink. I quite like it.”

Albus takes another sip and silently agrees with his father; he quite likes it too.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asks and Albus nods. “Are you ready to tell me why you’re really here? Oh Al, don’t give me that look, I’ve known you since before you can remember. I know you. As much as I’m flattered by you confiding in me, I very much doubt you would come all the way to Iceland just to seek my counsel.”

Albus gathers his thoughts. If he wants this to work, he has say this exactly right.

“Dad, do you really hate Draco Malfoy that much?”

Harry shrugs. “I suppose not. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’m not sure how much access to news about wizarding events you have here…”

“I get that piss poor excuse for a newspaper, _The Prophet_.”

“So you know that Draco Malfoy collapsed at an exhibition opening a few months ago?”

Harry nods.

“What _The Prophet_ never published was that he was sent to St Mungo's intensive care a few weeks ago and then slipped into a coma.”

Harry nods again, covering his worried frown by taking a deep gulp of the hot liquid. Albus begins to feel more confident; if Harry cares enough to be worried, he might care enough to come back with them.

“You know I’ve been working for Malfoy Industries’ Medical Research Department. I’ve managed to come up with a potion that can sustain him for a while. Something made his immune system shut down. On top of that, his magical force is leaking away; a measurable amount of it vanishes with every single day and even the potion I came up with cannot help with that. He was born a wizard and once his magical power has been drained away, whatever is causing this will tap into his life force. 

"The nature of his condition is such that he cannot survive without a blood and magic infusion. The problem is finding the right donor. I’ve used my own blood in preparing the potion; I only found out that it worked by accident, because I used a sample of my blood as a test when trying to find out what was wrong with him. My blood has so far been able to sustain him. I’ve tried both Lily’s and James’ samples and they don’t seem to have the same effect. I also tried Mum’s sample and her blood actually caused his condition to deteriorate.”

Albus looks at his father as understanding slowly dawns.

“You mean…”

“Yes, Dad. I need you to come back to England with me.”

“There’s no way. I’m sorry, Albus. I can’t. It’s not possible, not even for…”

“Dad, I know this sounds really strange and everything, but I really need you to come back with me. You’re the only who can save him.”

“Can’t I just give you some of my blood? Wouldn’t that be enough?”

“Despite what Scorpius implied, I’m doubtful that blood would be enough and frankly, we’re running out of time.”

“Albus, I really can’t. You don’t understand.” Harry sounds both sad and desperate, as if he is about to reveal something he would rather nobody knew. “The reason I came here is because it’s easier to control my magic. There’s something about this place, probably some electro-magnetic influence, or something about the volcanoes, I don’t know. Hermione could explain it better. But I’m no danger to anyone here, Albus. I can’t take the risk of going back. I just can’t.”

“Dad, if there was any other way…” Albus sighs and rubs his face tiredly before continuing. “We’ve tried everything. I’m at my wits’ end, but I’m convinced that what I’ve planned with you will work. I know you’re trying to protect everyone by staying here, but you’re sentencing him to death if you don’t even try. Stop being afraid, Dad! We need you. You’re the only one who can do this.”

“Albus -” 

“I’m not finished. I think I’ve come up with a way that will channel your excess magical energy to replace what has been slowly draining from Draco. Trust me. I know this’ll work and if we do this right, all the side effects you’ve been suffering from will disappear shortly after the treatment.”

Albus wants to say more, but he knows better than to push his father when he doesn’t want to do something. So he just sits and waits, taking a sip of his Grog now and then and watching his father turn the idea over and over inside his head.

“Do you need to know my answer now?”

“No, tomorrow morning is soon enough. Should you decide not to come, I’d still like to take some of your blood to see if I can at least make his last hours a bit easier.”

“Alright, I’m going to bed. I’ll tell you what I’ve decided tomorrow morning. Since you haven’t been here before, the bathroom is on the ground floor through the back. Up the stairs and to the right is my bedroom, but there is a spare bedroom on the left. I’m afraid one of you has to sleep on the sofa downstairs, but I’ve fallen asleep on that thing often enough to know it’s quite comfortable.”

Harry hugs him impulsively and then vanishes into the house without another word. Albus walks across to the wards and brings the motorcycle inside. He makes sure everything is where it is supposed to be and then covers the machine up. The night is growing ever colder and Albus wraps his hands around the glass his father gave him and steps out to look at the stars again. He barely notices that the heat in his drink has all but dissipated, because when he looks up the entire sky is lit by a haze of colourful lights, which shift and twist and waver. The sky looks as if it is on fire and Albus thinks he has never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, mesmerised by the shimmering lights; it is only when he starts shaking with cold that he comes back to himself. On re-entering the house Albus finds Scorpius already out cold in the chair by the fire. There are no noises coming from upstairs and he assumes his father is already asleep. Albus grabs a blanket and crouches down beside Scorpius to cover him up, when he notices his right hand, which is coated in dry blood. Albus doesn’t know how it happened but he is convinced that Scorpius didn’t have the injury when they were in the kitchen together earlier.

A terrible thought rushes through his mind. His father wouldn’t, would he? It only takes a moment to take Scorpius’ pulse. It is steady and reassuring, the pulse of someone fast asleep. 

Albus conjures a warm wet cloth and gently removes the traces of blood from Scorpius’ split knuckles. When the wounds are clean, he lifts the hand up to his lips and kisses each bruise carefully; as he reaches the last one, a tiny drop of blood wells up and when it connects with his lips, Albus feels something akin to a jolt of electricity run through him. It is not a merely physical effect; it is as if his entire being is suddenly lit up. Startled, he falls back onto his arse and stares up at Scorpius, his mind suddenly filled with things he shouldn’t know.

Luckily, Scorpius hasn’t woken up, despite the commotion. Albus is entirely too flustered, but still takes great care to cover Scorpius properly, his pale hair glowing golden in the warm fire light. He checks to make sure the fire will outlast the night and then slowly climbs up the stairs, his mind reeling with what he just found out. Much like his father, he decides to sleep on it, before making a decision. 

He crawls under the covers and it is not long before the strain of the last few days takes its toll and he drifts off into a fitful sleep filled with great battles and cities that are swallowed up by water and one name stands above all – Aquarius. He twists and turns in his sleep while outside the aurora borealis float in the ceaseless motion of their beautiful dance.

***

“Dad, have you seen my shoes? The floor is icy!” 

When Albus gets no reply he climbs downstairs carefully, shivering more with every step. He stops dead in his tracks when he reaches the kitchen and sees his father and Scorpius sitting at the table, not talking, but not trying to kill each other either. Harry seems lost in thought and Scorpius looks subdued as he stares into the swirling liquid in his cup; whenever the motion gets too slow, he picks up his spoon and stirs it again.

“Dad?”

“Sorry, yes, Albus? Was there something you wanted?” Harry replies distractedly. Albus doesn’t know whether this is good or bad considering the fact that Harry will soon have to let them know whether he is coming along or not.

“I was just wondering whether you had seen my shoes. It’s freezing in here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry; I took them downstairs earlier. They're there right by the fire; they were wet with dew or something. Did you go for a walk again last night?”

Albus slumps down on a chair beside his father and pulls up his legs until he is sitting on one and has the other resting on the footrest, as far away from the floor as possible. He grabs a bread roll and waits for his father to pass him a cup of coffee. 

Albus picks the bread roll apart and eats bits and pieces of it, saving the crust for last. His father smiles, because this used to be exactly the kind of behaviour that was strongly discouraged at the table of the Potter-Weasley household. The coffee is bitter and perfect, and after only a short time, Albus can feel his energy returning. Scorpius is still transfixed by his own coffee, which must have gone cold by now. His silence and utter reluctance to meet anyone’s gaze is making Albus’ skin crawl.

The quiet is beginning to grate on Albus’ nerves and he begins to fidget on his chair. He knows he should ask his father about whether he has come to a decision regarding their return journey to England, but Harry is now safely hidden away behind the pages of _The Prophet_.

“Right.” Albus puts his cup down with a definite 'clunk' and stands up. “I’m going to get ready and get my things.”

As he walks by the fireplace, he picks up his shoes. He is still shivering when he puts on his coat and shoes and packs his bag. It only takes a few flicks of his wand and his things are shrunk. The tiny first aid kit and his notebook and sleeping bag swiftly disappear into his coat pocket. It is time.

His father is waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.

“I’ve made my decision.”

Albus just looks at him, still unsure as to what the answer will be.

“I’m coming with you. I've already packed my things. If you get Scorpius ready, we can be in the air and on our way back in ten minutes.”

The hug exchanged between the two is fierce and grateful. Harry nods once and while climbing the stairs continues speaking.

“So, I’ll meet the two of you outside in five, alright?”

***

“Look out!” Harry’s shout is urgent and terrified and almost too late. Albus throws himself to the side, clinging to the motorcycle and Scorpius with all his strength. The engine screams in protest and the motorcycle veers off course led by the sudden change in weight. They barely manage to avoid the roaring fountain of boiling water that erupted out of nowhere right in front of them.

Harry reigns in his broom and hovers beside them as they both try to get over the initial shock of almost being roasted alive.

“Geysers,” he says simply. “They are all over the place. Unpredictable those things; it‘s got something to do with the volcanic activities. Are you two alright?”

“I think so,” Albus says, exhaling shakily. He can still feel his heart hammering away inside his chest. Scorpius doesn’t say anything, only swallows once and nods. It is not far now and their recent near-death experience makes Albus long to get back to the Nautilus even more.

“Should only be about another half hour and then we’re there.”

The rest of the flight towards the harbour goes smoothly. Albus is still holding onto Scorpius tightly and, if he didn’t know better, he could have sworn the man in front of him was shaking with nerves or some other unnameable emotion. The touchdown on the quay is much less smooth than it would usually be. Albus tries to catch Scorpius’ eye, but he doesn’t look at him, only stares at the floor until the crew show up to load the motorcycle. Then he vanishes up the gangway and probably into his cabin.

Albus tries to tell himself that it doesn’t hurt, but it does. His father pats him on the back sympathetically and that only makes it worse. It makes him feel like a troll that cannot be loved by anyone. Then he remembers his dreams and suddenly the truth of the matter dawns upon him; he has got it almost figured out, when someone calls down to them from the deck of the ship. It is Johanna. She scolds them for not telling her when they would be back, then cracks some joke about how it is dangerous to have so many bloody Potters on board, because they might attract the wrong kind of attention. This obviously endears her to Harry forever, because he laughs uproariously as he climbs the gangway.

When Albus is sure that his father is comfortable in his cabin and knows where everything is, he heads back to his own. He should be out on deck with Johanna watching cast off and musing about how the journey will go, but he cannot allow himself the distraction. Albus knows that inside his head is the answer to something that has been bothering him, the answer to Scorpius’ increasingly weird and erratic behaviour and the answer to how he survived the fall from a balcony through a glass dome into a pool without anything more than slightly sore muscles.

Contrary to his usual habits, Albus throws the windows in his cabin wide open, letting in the fresh air and the cold wind. He feels like a dork when he sits down on his bed cross-legged and closes his eyes, trying to clear his head of everything that could interrupt his thought process. Meditation has never really worked for him, but he is out of options. 

The first things Albus pushes away are his fears for Draco and his worry about Scorpius. The next emotions to go are his loneliness and his fear of what will happen if the cure he has devised doesn’t work on his father and Draco like he hopes. The last emotion to be pushed aside is the hardest to ignore, his deep and all consuming love for his best friend. What are left are facts, a great big mess of them, and Albus tries to sort them into chronological order.

When he is done, he looks at the chain of evidence he has created and there is only one possible conclusion. Everything fits, from the way Scorpius has been behaving around him, to how he had no idea how they got home after the party; from Albus’ weird dreams which actually couldn’t have been dreams, to Scorpius’ abrasive behaviour on their journey here. It could all be explained. There is only one thing that doesn’t fit anywhere and it is Scorpius’ uncharacteristically subdued behaviour. Albus is sure of his deduction, but he cannot explain this. 

There is not enough time to solve this now Albus realises when he finally opens his eyes again. Night has fallen and plunged his room into a solid kind of icy darkness. There is still so much to do, so much to prepare for the procedure. He doesn’t have any time to waste.

***

The next few days of the journey pass in a flurry of frenzied activity. Albus repeatedly checks his father’s magical power levels, takes a few blood samples and begins to prepare the base of the transfer potion they are going to need. He is so tired that he falls into bed exhausted every night. He doesn’t need the sleeping potion and his nights are peaceful and devoid of dreams. They are still at sea and only one more night away from Southampton when something disturbs the routine.

For once Albus doesn’t fall asleep right away. The anticipation of what the next day will bring keeps him awake. He doesn’t know how it happens, but suddenly he knows that he is no longer alone. Some primal sense that makes one’s neck hair stand on end when one is being watched has kicked in. His body is starting to produce adrenalin, causing his other senses to sharpen and his heart to beat faster. While his body is preparing for flight instead of fight, his mind knows exactly what he will do.

Albus isn’t surprised when the dark figure steps out of the shadows.

“Aquarius.” he whispers. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

The figure nods but doesn’t come closer.

“What’s wrong? Is it because I’m fully awake this time?” Albus asks, feeling something brush his mind, something that tells him to relax, to just let go. He shakes his head and pinches his arm to keep awake, forcing the presence out for the time being. “No! Stop it!” 

The presence withdraws entirely. But, instead of leaving or attacking physically, Aquarius just bends his neck slightly to the side, as if asking 'what now'. Albus smiles and beckons Aquarius over. He hesitates at first, then comes closer; Albus slides his legs out of bed and sits up, his face now level with Aquarius’ belly button. 

When Albus reaches for him, his wrist is caught just before he can touch the blue skin. He looks up into searching eyes and smiles.

“It’s alright, I understand now.” Albus twists his arm so he can caress the soft blue skin on Aquarius’ arm. Aquarius begins to tremble under the strain of not reacting to Albus’ touch. “Really, it’s okay. I want it, too. I’ve been waiting for you to come back.”

He wraps his fingers around Aquarius' arm, an echo of the man's hold on him, and draws him forward gently until he can reach skin with his lips; when Albus flicks out his tongue he can feel something inside Aquarius breaking. The presence in his mind is back, only now it is all want and need and possessiveness. Aquarius pushes Albus back onto the bed, up and up until they are both completely on it. He is strong, much stronger than Albus remembers. Unlike the last two times, Aquarius isn’t gentle with him; he seems to want to claim and mark Albus all over and Albus is only too glad to let him.

 _Mine, mine, mine_ , the voice inside his head that is not his own seems to chant and Albus cannot help but moan and writhe under the assault, whispering “yours, only yours” with every breath he can spare.

Everything about this time is different. Aquarius is almost forceful, his tenderness gone with the need to make Albus his entirely. Albus is prepared quickly and efficiently and then the other man is pushing into him, sheathing himself in one sure thrust. The cock buried to the hilt inside of him feels too large and the stretch burns; it has been too long since he last bottomed for anyone. Despite the pain this is everything he wants, everything he hoped for. Above him, Aquarius doesn’t move, his need to claim seemingly forgotten as both of them are overwhelmed with the feeling of _right_ that their coming together brings them both.

Aquarius’ arms are on either side of Albus’ head, his hands cradling it gently. Their gazes lock and Albus leans up to claim Aquarius’ lips in a kiss, his first time initiating anything. The burn has almost completely subsided and when Aquarius’ tongue traces along the seam of Albus’ lips he begins thrusting between Albus’ thighs, shallowly at first, then picking up the pace. Every single one of Albus’ lusty moans is swallowed greedily by Aquarius’ kisses.

The slapping sound of flesh on flesh and Albus cries of pleasure are the only things to disturb the quiet of the night. Aquarius’ hands seem to be everywhere, his touch warm and sure. Albus’ hands run up and down his back, scrabbling and scratching, trying to find purchase - find anything to hold onto - to stop himself spinning out of control. Their position shifts slightly and every single thrust of Aquarius’ undulating hips brushes over that tiny bundle of nerves that makes Albus see stars. Albus pushes back against every hard thrust, the tension in his belly curling ever tighter until it explodes and he comes with a shout, his penis spilling long white streaks all over his belly.

Aquarius’ thrusts become erratic as he plunges into Albus’ pliant body over and over, seeking his own release in the soft flesh beneath him. He bites down on Albus’ shoulder, the pain barely penetrating the post-orgasmic haze that has taken him over. Albus’ mind is filled with a sense of completeness and Aquarius thrusts in deep once more and fills him up with his release.

A heavy body collapses on top of Albus, trapping his come between them. Aquarius is warm and Albus cannot stop touching him; his hands run over the smooth back in ceaseless motion, drawing infinity patterns wherever they can reach. The connection between the two of them seems to be thrumming with contentment and something tells him that, from now on, it will only grow in strength.

Aquarius smells divine, Albus decides. After a moment he pushes himself up on his elbows; Albus has some room to breathe and he is almost sad for it. Albus’ body only reluctantly relinquishes its hold on the other man’s softening penis. It slowly slips out of him leaving his rim twitching. Albus sleepily reaches for his wand and waves a cleaning charm over both of them, before Aquarius turns them on their sides. The soft touches Albus remembers from his dreams return. When blue fingers touch the bruise at his shoulders where Aquarius’ teeth had broken the skin, it slowly knits back together and another piece of the puzzle falls into place.

Albus can feel himself slowly drifting off to sleep cocooned in the warmth of another man’s embrace and, for once, entirely at peace with his existence.

***

The next morning dawns cold and wet. Albus is woken by the sound of water that is pushed against his window almost violently by strong gusts of wind. This doesn’t bode well for the day that is to come. He is still tucked into his warm sheets entirely too comfortable and unable to hide the satisfied smile. Yes, everything definitely fell into place for him last night.

He slowly slides out of bed, not even minding when the cold floor nips at his feet. He runs into the bathroom to enjoy some of the floor-heating that is missing in the main cabin. Albus takes his time in getting ready; he knows he should rush, but somehow it seems wrong to hurry after the events and insights of the previous night. When it is time to put on the wristband, Albus hesitates, his finger absentmindedly tracing the place that Aquarius healed the night before. The leather against his skin feels wrong somehow and, considering everything, Albus doesn’t really need it anymore.

Finally having reached a decision, Albus gently places the wristband in the drawer of his ornate writing desk. He no longer has any use for it. His potions' bag, his notebook and his coat and gloves are the only things he takes with him as he steps out of the cabin for the last time, feeling oddly liberated.

***

Above and below deck everything is a flurry of rushing people, of crates being packed and prepared as the harbour draws ever nearer. Scorpius and Harry both stand by the railing watching the coastline as it grows bigger and bigger. Albus embraces his newly found feeling of liberation, despite everything the day might have in store for them; he doesn’t even mind the drizzle or the cold wind that turns every single one of the tiny raindrops into missiles.

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Albus wants to laugh and shout at the euphoria he feels. When Scorpius looks at him he does so with an odd expression on his face that for once Albus cannot quite interpret.

“S’pose,” Scorpius replies, entirely lacking his usual eloquence.

“Aren’t you happy that things worked out as well as they did? We’ve got everything ready, and in a few minutes we’ll be at St Mungo’s and I’ll administer the potion that will cure your father. Why shouldn’t today be a beautiful day?”

“Oh, piss off, will you? This ill-timed display of joviality is completely inappropriate. I cannot _wait_ for you to pack your things and finally leave!”

Albus feels like he has been slapped. He doesn’t understand. “I… but… Scorpius, what…?” But Scorpius has already left without another word.

“Who spit in his coffee?” Harry asks, turning to Albus before becoming aware of the hurt expression on his son’s face. “He did it again, didn’t he? I don’t know why you bother, really. But I’ve said my piece, I’ll be quiet now. How long do you reckon until we’ll be docking?”

Albus visibly gets a hold of himself and schools his face into a professional mask that gives nothing away.

“I’d guess half an hour. The rest of our equipment will be shipped back to the Manor and into storage after it is checked over by the technicians from Malfoy Industries. I've got my potions bag right here, so we can _Apparate_ straight to the hospital. Do you think you’re ready for what’s to come?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” If Albus is any judge of character, his father doesn’t look ready at all; he looks as if he is just about to bolt or break down and cry, or quite possibly throw up.

“Care for a smoke?”

“Merlin, yes!” Harry says, before taking the offered cigarette, another indicator of how nervous he is, as he usually abhors smoking. “Thanks, I really need this.”

“I figured.” Silence stretches between them as they lean on the railing, occasionally taking a drag from their cigarettes and entirely lost in their own thoughts.

The thirty minutes until docking pass quickly and suddenly the entire ship bursts into frantic activity. Their cargo is already in the air and is being slowly lowered onto the quay as they reach the end of the gangway. Once on dry land, Albus immediately sends a Patronus to St Mungo’s telling them to prepare everything for their arrival. The three of them crowd together and Albus _Apparates_ them away before the descending motorcycle touches the ground.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

**Scorpius Malfoy - Two Weeks ago**

Scorpius watched the crab with avid fascination as it climbed the tree on his left in short jerky steps. Every one of its steps made weird scratching noises that almost couldn’t be heard over the din of the forest noises. The air was filled with the sound of bird voices, with the call of apes and frogs and other unidentifiable creatures and all around there was the constant rustling noise of leaves shifting in the breeze and insects going about their business. 

While Scorpius was mostly concerned about getting through the flora and keeping the fauna away from him, Albus had often taken the time to stop and observe and, in many cases, take samples and sketch what they had found. Waiting for Albus was usually incredibly boring, but the man was so happy about it that Scorpius couldn’t scold him for it. Scorpius would secure the perimeter then inspect their equipment before finding somewhere comfy to sit while Albus sketched and collected specimens. When his best mate was ready to move on again they would store everything away and continue on their trek.

The crab had long since vanished into a knothole but Scorpius was still standing there, staring and feeling a little forlorn. He missed Albus, he realised. Something bit him and he slapped his neck, turning whatever it had been into a smudged mess of red and grey and too many legs to contemplate what it might have been. It was time to move on. The green light that filtered through the canopy of leaves above him was slowly dimming and he would soon have to find a place to sleep for the night.

His clothes clung to him like a wet glove and the heat was still unbearable. The last thing he wanted was to prolong this trip, but he had stumbled and fallen often enough today, once tearing the entire length of his left shin, both fabric and skin beneath, and it would only get worse after the sun set. There was barely a path in front of him and he had to climb over giant roots that dwarfed even the largest tree on the Manor grounds. They had grown over what, at first glance, looked like rocks, but further investigation showed to be carefully carved stones that belonged to the ruins of long ago abandoned buildings. All around him were such overgrown mounds, covered in lichen, ferns, grasses and hundreds of beautiful flowers. 

He must be in the middle of a large city, Scorpius decided after he had climbed one of the larger mounds. He tried to make out how far this field of trees and mounds went on and saw that it stretched as far as the eye could see. Scorpius was standing in what had once been a carved window frame, its carefully designed decorations now hidden by thick liana and roots. On his left he could just make out a particularly beautiful flower in the slowly fading light and decided to bring it back for Albus to study. If the man himself wasn’t able to be here, he would still appreciate any specimens Scorpius could bring home.

The plant reared up and veritably growled as Scorpius’ hand closed in on it. It showed its most likely poisonous thorns and when Scorpius still wasn’t dissuaded by the display it snarled and snapped, missing his fingers by an inch. Scorpius carefully made his way down again, cursing under his breath about plant evolution in magical hotspots.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/wantsunicorns/pic/000067fq/)

About half an hour had passed by the time he realised he wouldn’t make it out of the ruined city while the sun was still up. He had to find shelter now, before night fell; he could barely make out his own fingers in front of his face as it was. Whatever flat space of floor that was even the slightest bit defendable he came across in the next five minutes would have to suffice. The storm lantern was lit within a manner of seconds and helped illuminate his immediate vicinity. Scorpius had just turned a corner when the flickering light of his lamp fell on the face of a giant.

The mouth was turned down and the eyes scrunched shut in anger. Inhumanly long canines jutted out above the lips, turning the entire face into a terrifying grimace. The face itself was framed by a helmet with a shortened nose-guard. Scorpius could feel his heart hammer away in his chest and it took him a moment before he realised that he was looking at one of the famous Olmec monuments. This must be an unexcavated warrior head. He stepped closer and inspected it further. The head was old, much older than the ruined city around him; it was also overgrown just like the rest of it. Scorpius thought that maybe the people who had built the city had found the head and brought it back as a trophy or had built their city around it, never daring to destroy it to use as building material even though stone was very hard to come by in this region. 

The head was a thing of terrifying beauty. The face was a cross of jaguar and human features, but so delicately chiselled that it appeared almost alive. Scorpius hesitantly reached out for it, touching the rough stone and rubbing his thumb across his fingertips now wet with condensation. He decided to make camp here and cleared a space on the forest floor to light a small fire. The dancing flames made the warrior’s face look even more intimidating and Scorpius decided to turn his back to it, because even looking at it now made his skin crawl. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it had come alive then and there.

When he had finished eating and spread his sleeping mat and bag on the ground, he lay down, hoping to sleep in the incredible din that surrounded him. It felt as if the forest had become even more alive during the night. A few metres from where he lay, a snake slowly slid down to the forest floor. Scorpius could feel his blood freeze and held his breath, but the snake just cast him a withering look and turned the other way, the sound of its movement quickly swallowed up in the noises made by the creatures of the night.

Sleep evaded him, not only because of the din around him, but also because of everything that had happened recently. Would this trek through the tropical rain forest yield the results they were hoping for? Would he be able to even find the temple and if so, find the skull? And then there was Albus and his father, would he ever find a solution to that? Scorpius turned on his back and stared at the dark canopy of leaves above him, imagining the fireflies that randomly lit up to be the stars, high up in the sky to guide his way. 

He was so caught up in his musings that he almost missed it. The sound of feet was so light and their tread so soft that not even a breaking twig would have alerted him, but the deep, threatening growl warned him of a nearby predator which seemed to be circling his camp. The noise was too familiar. Scorpius had heard it once before and, like then, he was unable to make out the creature.

He was quickly up on his feet and grabbed hold of the nearest vine hauling himself onto the top of the warrior head. The growling grew more pronounced and Scorpius was worried that the creature would follow him up here. If it was as big as the one in the Himalayas had seemed, the head definitely wasn’t high enough. He looked around himself quickly, the firelight actually hindering him more than it was helping, and decided on two lianas to his right. He used those to climb up higher into the tree. He didn’t worry about what he would find there; spiders or scorpions or tree frogs and lizards might all be waiting for him, but what mattered was that the tree trunk itself was too smooth for the creature to scale it.

It took him longer than he had anticipated until he reached a high up branch and sat on it astride, the smooth bark of the tree at his back. His chest was heaving with the effort, but he’d made it. Scorpius could hear the growling and hissing of the creature below, but was reasonably sure that he was safe up here. He sat there, staring into the darkness, his pistols laying in his lap just in case.

***

Scorpius woke with a startled yelp as one of the large leaves above him unburdened itself of the water that had been collecting in it overnight and poured the lukewarm flood straight down the back of his collar. Scorpius shook himself, completely forgetting where he was and it was only thanks to his good reflexes that he didn’t fall off the tree and break his neck.

He leant back against the tree, his wet shirt and coat squelching at his back. His heart seemed to be trying to escape his ribcage by any means possible and his breathing was so erratic that he began to see white spots dance in front of his eyes. When Scorpius had collected himself enough he climbed down the tree, picking up the bits of his equipment and his two pistols that he had accidentally dropped when he had almost fallen out of the tree.

The fire had died during the night and all around the charred remains of it were giant feline paw prints, their size sending cold shivers up Scorpius’ spine. His sleeping mat and sleeping bag had been ripped to shreds and all of his other supplies were gone. It had been a close call. The much brighter greenish daylight revealed a pile of human bones half buried in one of the corners of the clearing he had chosen the night before. This definitely wasn’t a good place.

Scorpius took what he could salvage from his destroyed sleeping bag and went on his way, deciding that while he was awake, he might as well beat the midday heat.

***

His feet were still drenched and they were getting sore, the wet fabric of his socks irritating the skin. He knew he was going to have blisters before too long. Scorpius had had to wade through a small river earlier. He had kept his shoes and trousers on to avoid poisonous leeches latching on and sharp rocks cutting the soles of his feet. The armada of leeches he ended up brushing off the fabric definitely proved him right, however not taking the time to dry his clothes wasn’t one of his smarter ideas.

The map Albus had used to plot the course was one of the magical ones Scorpius had invented and it had stopped working several hours ago. Feeling defeated, Scorpius climbed on the fallen log of a tree, which was still high enough to give him an advantage should a predator approach. He carefully took off his shoes and laid his socks out to dry. Not that it was much use. Spells didn’t work because of the high density wild magic and the air was too wet to allow them to dry properly. Still, feeling the wind brush against his bare feet as he swung them back and forth was reward enough.

Scorpius took out his frantically humming PFC and flicked it open. At first there was only static when he held it to his ear, but after a while he could make out fractured sentences and Albus’ worried voice.

“Al, I can’t hear you, the magic is interfering,” he said and then listened intently.

“I’m past the village and the map has stopped working and last night someone took all my equipment. I think I’m close, though. I don’t know how much longer the PFC will keep working… Yes, alright, I’ll activate the beacon now, just in case. Send my regards to my father. Speak to you soon. Take care.”

Scorpius flicked the PFC closed and began digging around his pockets for the locator beacon. After several minutes of ever more frantic rummaging, he still came up empty-handed. The beacon must have been with his belongings that had gone missing during the night. His stomach rumbled reminding him that much like the beacon, all of his food supplies were gone as well. He looked around himself and saw a plant that bore dozens of small red berries only a few metres further up the tree. Scorpius got up and walked over on bare feet. Applying one of the gadgets he had brought, Scorpius found out that while the berries were slightly poisonous they were high in nutrients. He decided it was worth the risk and harvested as many of the small berries as he could carry. Some of them he popped right into his mouth, the rest he carefully stored in his satchel.

The heat only grew worse as the day went on. Scorpius felt like his legs weighed a ton but he just kept on walking, even though at this point he didn’t even know where he was supposed to be going. He ate the berries as he walked and when night began to encroach, he began to look for another place to rest. The ruined city lay half a day’s walk behind him and all that surrounded him now was unexplored rainforest.

An hour after he had eaten the last berry he began to feel strange and even more tired than before. He stopped beside a bush he was familiar with and plucked a couple of citrus fruits from it, but when he chewed them, he couldn’t taste anything but the flavour of the berries. Scorpius tiredly rubbed his eyes and then saw a zap of magical energy spread along his hands and discharge into the nearest tree trunk. He was losing magical energy, he realised. This didn’t bode well.

“That’s what you get for eating berries you don’t know!”

“Al?” Scorpius asked confusedly. The path in front of him seemed to waver and buck, as if it was trying to keep him from following it.

“Of course it’s me!”

“Are you really here?”

“What do you think? Of course not! You talked to me earlier and, if you remember, you lost the beacon last night.”

“Hmmm,” Scorpius replied, now having serious trouble keeping himself upright.

“You’re in really bad shape. You should go start a fire and lie down, Scorpius.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he mumbled. 

It took longer than he liked to build the fire; it felt like he was moving through jell-o, every one of his movements slow and anything but effortless like they should have been. The fire crackled merrily in front of him, mocking him with its speed. Scorpius felt his hair stand on end when he heard the deep threatening growl that had driven him up a tree the night before. His limbs refused to move and his treacherous knees buckled beneath him. Why wasn’t Albus helping him?

“Because, you nit, you’re having this whole conversation inside your head. I’m not really here, remember?” Albus scolded him.

Scorpius tried to reply, but his tongue wouldn’t obey him. He lay there, on his side, unable to move, while he listened to the creature approaching. It was sniffing the air now. The tread of its soft, invisible paws stopped about a metre from where he lay, but Scorpius couldn’t even turn his head to see the creature that would be the end of him. Everything around him began to glow in a hazy, warm, yellow light and he could have sworn he could make out a group of winged shapes, like angels. But it couldn’t be. He didn’t believe in the concept of heaven and had never done anything in his entire life to endear himself to the man with the great big bushy beard. 

Soon after, everything went dark.

***

“Am I dead?”

“No.”

“Who are you?”

“I can’t tell you. I’m not allowed.”

“Okay… why are we here?”

“To find out about the one you’ve chosen and whether he’s worthy of you.”

“Alright.”

“Where is here exactly?”

Scorpius looked around to answer the question of his companion. The man himself was pale and had an ethereal beauty. Strapped to his back were a pair of wings that flapped nervously, as if conveying an emotion the man was trying to keep hidden. They appeared to be standing in one of the bathrooms at Hogwarts; it was one that Scorpius had been to only once and avoided ever since. He had no idea why they were here and before he was going to answer any questions he wanted some answers of his own.

“Who are you?”

“I told you, I can’t tell you.”

“That’s not what I meant. Don’t you have a name or something?”

“Yes. Hmm, I suppose. The others didn’t say… you may call me Uriel.”

“Alright, Uriel. I know where we are and why I don’t like this place. What I don’t know is why we’re here and how I got here. Until you explain that to me, I won’t say anything further.”

If Scorpius wasn’t entirely mistaken, the apparition beside him suddenly looked quite sheepish and wouldn’t meet his eye.

“If you start shuffling your feet, Uriel, you’ll turn into a cliché.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Seriously though, we’re inside my memories. How did we get here?”

“I… we… my brothers and sisters… we’ve been with you since you entered the ruined city. We sort of… encouraged you to eat those berries.”

“Excuse me?”

“Uhm… without those, I couldn’t be here now. It’s important that we look at your memories together.” Uriel sounded guilty as he spoke.

“Alright,” Scorpius said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Never mind that now. So we need to look at my memories, but memories of whom?”

“You will see.”

“Uriel…” Scorpius said, voice going dangerously quiet. This time however he was surprised to see the man straighten up and shake his head.

“I’m sorry, Scorpius, but this I can’t tell you. Part of seeing these memories again is for you to realise and decide whether you have chosen well.”

“Chosen whom or what well?”

“You’ll see. Shall we begin?”

“Alright, it’s not like I have a choice.” Scorpius allowed a certain level of disapproval to enter his voice.

“No, it’s not,” Uriel said decisively before continuing. “So, where are we?”

“We’re at Hogwarts. I used to go to school here. This is one of the bathrooms and the only time I’ve been here-“

He was interrupted by the door slamming open and a small boy with a mop of dark brown bushy hair running into the room. He was obviously trying not to cry. The small boy looked around wildly, his tie a startling blue, before rushing into the nearest cubicle so quickly that Scorpius didn’t manage to ascertain whether he knew him or not. The boy locked the door behind him. Uriel and Scorpius drifted closer and could hear sniffling and sobbing coming quietly from behind the door.

“…so unfair. Why did he have to be so mean? It’s not my fault. I didn’t want to be in Ravenclaw.” This was followed by more sniffling and then: “I’m not a queer nerd!”

Scorpius couldn’t help but smile. Even though it was terrible to say something like that to a small boy, the way that very boy had said it sounded like he didn’t know what it was, but would damn well get a dictionary and find out what it meant and if it meant anything as bad as it felt, there would be hell to pay. Scorpius sobered when the crying continued. He wanted to reach out and tell the boy that things would be okay, nothing could be so bad to warrant such an amount of tears to be spilled over it.

The door opened a second time, quietly, and then was closed again. Scorpius knew who was standing there, his face just as tear-streaked as the other boy’s. He still remembered the taunts and insults, the shouts of 'motherless Death Eater scum' which had driven him into this room as if it were yesterday. Young Scorpius, who had only just been sorted into Slytherin, slowly walked towards the only other cubicle that wasn’t occupied, closed the toilet lid and sat down, before shutting the door and locking it.

Scorpius remembered the feeling of the rough toilet paper as it brushed against his skin while he tried to stop the flood of tears that streamed down his cheeks. The only sounds in the room were the two small sniffling noises coming from the adjoining cubicles and the occasional drip from one of the taps that didn’t work properly. Scorpius looked up at Uriel, wishing he didn’t have to live through this misery again. Uriel only shook his head and mouthed “listen”. And so he did.

“Is someone there?” young Scorpius asked as he became aware of the sniffling.

“I-, yes, I’m here.”

“Are you alright?” Scorpius’ younger self sounded seriously concerned.

“I-“ the other boy hiccoughed. “I don’t know.”

“Are you sad?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” the younger Scorpius asked but the other boy didn’t reply.

“Because of something someone said?” he went on. Scorpius remembered how he had imagined the other boy to be nodding before continuing to speak. “I’m sad too because of something someone said.”

The sniffling from the other cubicle became louder.

“Don’t cry! It’s going to be okay. They don’t matter! Don’t be sad anymore, please.” Scorpius also remembered sitting down on the filthy bathroom floor and stretching his hand into the next cubicle under the thin wall separating them and how quickly it had been taken up and held. “Here, hold my hand. It’s going to be okay.”

“D-don’t you think this is girly?” the other boy asked, still sounding croaky with tears.

“No!” young Scorpius said decisively. “You’re sad and I’m sad and if this makes us feel better, it can’t be girly, because girly things are bad and this doesn’t feel bad, right?”

“It doesn’t.”

The two boys never said another word. Scorpius didn’t remember how long they sat there, just taking comfort in each other without ever finding out each other’s names. At some point other people had entered the room and they had reluctantly let go of each other’s hands. The other boy had left with whoever had entered the room and Scorpius never did find out whom he had shared his sorrow with. Once his younger version left the bathroom, the scene blurred and changed. 

They were still at Hogwarts, but several years had passed. Scorpius was standing behind a curtain in the library beside his younger self, who was looking out through the small gap and listening intently. Scorpius cast a questioning glance at Uriel, but the man only directed him back to the scene in front of them.

“Observe.”

Scorpius remembered what it had been like. His father’s company had finally got its first large contract with the Ministry. A sudden surge in popularity had followed as their name had been restored and their vault in Gringotts began to overflow once more. He hadn’t really been looked down on after his first year, and had made a name for himself by playing pranks on the least liked of the teachers and getting more detentions for disregarding the rules than even the famous Weasley twins did in their first year. His father had been less than pleased. It was safe to say that the air between Hogwarts and the Manor had been thick with owls.

At the time Scorpius had found that, in general, people seemed to admire a daredevil. Since admiration was so much better than resentment, he played right along, never again wanting to feel like he had on the day of the sorting feast.

Soft voices filtered through the thick fabric. He smiled as he remembered the conversation he had been desperately trying to overhear. There was a book ready on the windowsill and words on his tongue to utter should he be discovered.

“Did you see what he did during the match today? I don’t think even aunt Ginny or your dad could’ve done that.”

The reply was merely a grunt.

“All that Quidditch leather? Merlin, what I wouldn’t give for a peek in that locker room. And that arse of his, so tight and glorious. Any girl, or guy for that matter, would be lucky to have that!”

“Ugh, Dominique, don’t be disgusting!”

“Come on, Al; don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. I’ve seen you watching him when you thought nobody was looking. You fancy him, admit it!”

“What? I never,” Albus spluttered. Scorpius could still remember how his heart had leapt in his chest at what he had overheard.

“It’s okay. I’ve known for a while.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about. I can’t stand the twat. He’s so full of himself. It’s like he thinks his shit don’t stink and that the sun shines out of his arse. It makes me sick to see everyone cater after his every whim as if he was some kind of celebrity. I’m only glad that he won’t qualify for NEWT level potions. At least there'll be one class where I don’t have to see his pasty face!”

“Still doesn’t mean you don’t fancy him. He is really hot!”

“Merlin, Dominique, even if I was into blokes, which I’m not, he’d be the last person I’d ever go for. Even if we were that last two human beings left on earth. Could we talk about something less tedious? Please?”

“I’d say you protest too much, but then you’d probably not talk to me for the rest of the day.” Even though Scorpius hadn’t been able to see the girl’s face, he could still hear the smile in her voice.

Scorpius still remembered how that statement had stung at the time. It still left him a bit uneasy, whenever it came to Albus. It had been those words more than anything that had made Scorpius sign up for advanced potions and bully Albus into tutoring him. He never could explain why it was so important to him that Albus become part of his life or why he put so much effort into keeping him there.

His younger self looked thoughtful and climbed into the window seat. He slung his arms around his knees and stared out of the window, already plotting on how to change Albus Severus Potter’s opinion of him. The book he had brought lay forgotten beside him.

Hogwarts kept blurring and changing around them, going through many more such scenes involving Scorpius and Albus. After a while he caught on to some extent and realised that the very first memory they had looked at must have been of him and Albus as well. Who would have thought that on their very first day at Hogwarts they had already found comfort in each other? It seemed like fate now and that made it all the harder to accept that Albus wasn’t ever going to be his.

The last of the memories at Hogwarts shifted so fast that Scorpius couldn’t distinguish between them anymore. Beside him Uriel had grown quiet. He looked pensive and his hands moved as if he was quickly sifting through a photo album; in a way, he was.

The room around them solidified again and they were in Scorpius’ workshop. He guessed that this was one of the memories Uriel wanted them to watch together. There was no point in asking for his reasons, Scorpius decided. Uriel seemed secretly fond of being cryptic and if the only way to get back at him was to deny him the chance, Scorpius would. It might be petty, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The version of him that was sitting at his workbench was still a few years younger than he was now. Looking around the room and cataloguing the inventions and sketches of others on display, Scorpius decided that this must have been shortly after Albus had moved in with him.

“Fuck!” the younger Scorpius exclaimed and threw his hands in the air dramatically as if performing for some invisible audience. His older counterpart couldn’t help but smile. It was a strange sensation watching oneself and noticing all the odd little affectations that one had developed and allowed to take hold over time.

“I can’t believe this! Why won’t you work?” he glared at the parchment in front of him. It was currently displaying a perfect blueprint of Malfoy Manor. The gloves were humming as he held them to the parchment; he remembered being annoyed about that at the time and it had taken him months to get rid of the sound. He twisted them trying to shift things around, trying to attach comments to areas, but nothing happened. The younger Scorpius pulled off the gloves and threw them on the floor in frustration. Just then Albus walked in.

“Are you alright? I could hear you moping all the way across the hall.” He winked.

“No, not really.” Scorpius rubbed his eyes tiredly. “According to every test I did, this should be working perfectly, but instead it just isn’t. I’m running out of ideas. I think I might be blocked. I mean, how ridiculous is that? I think I’m suffering from inventor’s block!”

“Is there such a thing? I thought only writers could suffer from it.”

“I don’t even know. How blocked do you have to be to invent inventor’s block?”

“I have no idea.” Albus walked over to Scorpius and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “I think you should take a break; you’ve been in here for hours.”

“But I feel like I’m so close to solving this, Al. I can’t just leave.”

“You seem to be under the impression that it was a suggestion.”

Scorpius grinned as his younger self turned around in shock. Albus had never spoken to him like that before. Albus usually complained but then agreed with Scorpius; this was something new. This display of strength left the younger Scorpius quite speechless.

“Come on,” Albus said, pulling Scorpius out of his chair and propelling him towards the door with a series of gentle pushes to his lower back.

Uriel did that quick flipping motion again and they found themselves under the large glass dome of the Manor’s conservatory when the younger Scorpius and Albus stepped into the room. Above them the sky was clear and lit with hundreds of tiny stars; it took Scorpius’ breath away just like it had then. He still remembered walking, as if in a dream, gazing around himself with wide eyes with Albus at his back all but forgotten.

This time round, Scorpius saw Albus flicking his wand and every second panel in the globe above them opened and slowly rose upwards letting in the fresh warm air of a summer evening. Like his younger self, Scorpius slowly spun in a circle, drinking in the sight around him. Even now, seeing it for the second time, he could still feel his breath catch in his throat.

Albus stepped behind Scorpius’ younger self and gently ushered him towards a cushioned seat in front of a telescope.

“I finally unpacked the last of my things.”

It was a revelation to see the memory unfold again, but to be able to see it from the outside. Albus was smiling at Scorpius’ younger self warmly. He rested his hands on younger Scorpius’ shoulders and told him about how, as a child, his Aunt Hermione had given him the telescope and books about the universe and constellations after he complained that he didn’t quite fit in. Those books and his perusal of the skies above, he said, turned his room into a place of wonder and not the cavern where he crawled into to hide his freakish nature. The younger Scorpius tried to say something, but Albus only chuckled and squeezed his shoulder, saying it was okay.

“I’m alright with who I am now. But thank you. The reason I brought you up here is because I wanted to share this with you, wanted to show you something I know you know little about and that I’ve never shared with anyone else.”

Scorpius stood there dumbfounded. Albus sounded so sure and gentle. How hadn’t he picked up on it in the past? There had definitely been a chance for the two of them back then. The affection was so obvious in everything Albus did. He crouched behind Scorpius, taking his finger and guiding it along a now-familiar constellation.

“Those stars are called the cross of the north. In some languages it’s called the swan. Look here, the long line is its neck and those two stars that make up the sides of the cross are its wings spread in flight.” 

“What’s it called in English?” the younger Scorpius asked, his voice shaky.

“I was just coming to that,” Albus said, releasing Scorpius’ hand and looking at him over his shoulder. “It’s Cygnus, like your great-grandfather’s name. I thought you might like that.”

“I-I really do. Thank you, Albus,” Scorpius’ younger self said and even to his own ears he sounded genuine.

“Now if you want to, I can show you something that you can’t see without a telescope.”

“Alright,” the younger Scorpius whispered.

Albus stood and looked into the telescope, adjusting it slightly and spinning one of the many wheels a fraction. A satisfied smile adorned his face and he beckoned Scorpius to take a closer look. He took his hand and slowly showed him how to adjust the focus with the help of the small wheel at the side.

“Do you see them?”

“What am I looking at?”

“The telescope is pointed at the beak of the swan. The star Cygni that gives it its name is accompanied by a smaller star. Cygni itself is an orange-red giant star and its companion is a smaller blue planet. Fascinating isn’t it that to us those two look like one, but when you look closer it’s actually a system of two stars. One of them is forever spinning around the orbit of the other, brighter one.”

And that right there was the moment when Scorpius understood everything. How Albus had finally chosen him, how he had tried to explain as much. Scorpius had got it wrong in all the years since then. He hadn’t even noticed what Albus had offered to him and now it was far too late.

“Uriel, tell me something and please don’t say you can’t. I really need to know. Why are we here? What are you here to judge? And why are all of these memories of me and Al?”

Uriel looked at him sadly, as if he had hoped that Scorpius would have figured it out by now.

“If you don’t know, I really can’t…”

“Please, Uriel. Just tell me!” Scorpius was desperate now, there was something he was missing. Something important. Seeing that _he_ was the reason that Albus’ affections had eventually strayed towards someone who would reciprocate them almost destroyed him.

“You really have no idea?” Uriel sounded confused. “Then why are you here?”

Deciding that answering Uriel’s question might be the fastest way to get a reply of his own, Scorpius spoke.

“I’m here because my father is very ill. Al did some research and we travelled all over the world to find some artefact, some crystal skull or something, that could heal him. We thought we would find one in the Himalayas but all we found were scrolls with more lore about the skulls. Al sent me here to try and find one of them while he keeps researching.”

“Oh,” Uriel said.

“Now, will you tell me why you’re here and what we’re doing?” Scorpius asked, trying to hide his impatience.

“I- we… where to begin…” Uriel seemed to be completely flustered by what Scorpius had said. “I’m not sure I’m the right person to tell you this, but you have chosen me as your guardian and guide… We are of the Veela. The culture bringers. We are but an echo of the people that came to you thousands of years ago.”

“Are you kidding me?” Scorpius couldn’t quite believe his ears.

“No, Scorpius of Malfoy, I am not kidding. My brethren and I tried to approach you and your chosen one to see if he was worthy of you. I’m here with you to get to know him. To see if you have chosen well and whether you should receive the gifts that come with being a descendant of the Veela.”

“My what? Who is my chosen one? What are you even talking about?”

“The one you call Albus. You have chosen him. You are bound to him.”

“I… but how?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t delved that far into your memories yet. You must have either consummated the bond or you began the merging by an exchange of blood or by subjecting him to the healing touch. I can’t say which; all I can say is that he is indeed your chosen one and from what I have learnt of him so far, you have indeed chosen well.”

“I… it’s not possible. Oh, God!” Scorpius said, eyes going wide. The explosion in the lab. That must have been it. He had always wondered why Albus hadn’t been more seriously injured, considering the devastation the explosion had left behind.

“But, Uriel, how can I be bonded to him if he doesn’t care for me? What is the point of such a bond or merging, if one of the people involved doesn’t feel that way about the other?”

“Scorpius,” Uriel’s voice was gentle and reassuring. He took Scorpius’ hand into his own in a gesture so reminiscent of how Albus used to behave around him that it stung. Scorpius found himself trying hard to blink away the tears that threatened to spill forth. “You don’t have to worry about that. I can feel the bond between the two of you. Albus feels for you deeply; more deeply than even I can fathom.”

“There must be some mistake. He doesn’t care for me, he cares for my father. He said-“ Scorpius' voice wouldn’t obey him and now he was crying.

“I don’t understand why you can’t feel it, my boy. Albus loves you, not like a brother, but like a lover. What you perceive to be feelings for your father is his concern. Your father was a mentor to him, a father figure really; that your father is unwell and that it upsets you, affects him greatly. But the only one he truly loves is you, Scorpius.”

Scorpius could barely make out his and Albus’ frozen younger selves in front of him. Tears ran down his cheeks as something loosened deep inside of him. He allowed himself to feel and hope for the first time in months. When - if - he got out of this alive he had to tell Albus. Had to come clean about everything. He couldn’t hold the emotions back even if he tried. What Uriel said gave him hope, gave him purpose. If there was the tiniest chance then maybe, just maybe, it was worth it. Scorpius brushed the tears from his cheeks and stood up straighter.

“Uriel, is there anything else I need to know? You said something about guides and guardians?”

“We are your guides and guardians. We’ve taken the form of a jaguar and have been protecting you in your sleep. We will guide you to what you seek in the morning.”

“Thank you. Is there anything else I need to do?”

“I would like to share more in your memories, if you’ll allow it.”

“Alright, but could you… could you not show them to me while you do that?”

“I don’t have to. I only did, because I wanted to gauge your reaction. Shall we continue?”

Scorpius nodded and immediately their surroundings began to shift and blur as they had many times before.

***

Scorpius woke with a startled yelp. Something wet and rough was stroking across his face. He yelped again even louder when he realised that what was moving over his skin like sandpaper was, in fact, the tongue of the huge and terrifyingly beautiful jaguar that was lying half on top of him. Scorpius’ entire chest was vibrating with its magnificent purr. For a moment he was close to panicking until he remembered what Uriel had told him. This was alright, unless it had been some kind of bizarre berry-induced hallucination. Albus would kill him if he ever found out he had eaten berries that weren’t on the “approved” list. That single thought of Albus stirred a series of others and Scorpius simply knew that what he would have disregarded as a dream only a minute ago had in fact really happened. Albus. He needed to get back to him and tell him. Tell him that he loved him back.

“Gerroff!” Scorpius slurred, but the jaguar didn’t seem to care, too busy trying to strip the skin from Scorpius’ face. “’s not funny! I gotta take a piss,” he added.

Eventually the feline grew bored and climbed off of him. Scorpius sighed feeling relieved that he was able to breathe properly again. The beast weighed at least one hundred kilos and Scorpius knew that if it hadn’t decided to get up, there would have been no chance of him getting up by himself. The jaguar followed his every movement with its eyes, leading Scorpius to turn his back to it as he relieved himself; the last thing he needed was to be stared at by giant cat when he tried to piss.

His business finished, he returned to see the jaguar washing its face as if it had all the time in the world. Suddenly Scorpius wasn’t so sure anymore that this wasn’t just a tame jaguar instead of the physical form of a Veela ancestor.

“Uriel, that’s you, isn’t it?”

The feline lowered its head slightly, holding it to the side somewhat and Scorpius could have sworn that it raised a single eyebrow at him, as if to say ‘seriously?’. The creature didn’t even have eyebrows for Merlin’s sake! It walked over to Scorpius and slapped him in the hip with its paw, claws retracted, but still strong enough to almost knock him over. Then it began to purr again, rubbing its big head against Scorpius’ hip and backside pushing him forward and out of the clearing.

When Scorpius stopped to turn back, he could hear a rasping sound as the huge cat licked once across the clothed right cheek of his buttocks. Scorpius felt scandalised and must have looked it, too, because when he stared at Uriel’s face he could have sworn the large cat was laughing at him.

“Oi!” was all he managed to get out, his brain too shocked to come up with a fitting riposte to take the cheeky feline down a peg. Ancestor or not, Scorpius was going to get back at him!

Uriel walked with the grace inherent in felines all over the world. He brushed past Scorpius’ leg and flicked his tail at Scorpius’ lower back. It made Scorpius wonder why Uriel was so keen on touching him, when in the dream he had always kept his distance. He wasn’t deluded enough to think that it was because of his good looks. Besides, Uriel was far more beautiful than him, being pureblood Veela and not some Veela-human hybrid. No, it must be something else.

Maybe it was the ability to affect matter, which was necessary to be able to touch and feel. Scorpius tested his theory and scratched the waiting feline behind the ears. The purr that began deep in Uriel’s chest was such a mighty sound that its vibrations transferred through Scorpius hand and made him feel like he was trying to hold on to a live wire.

“I thought so,” Scorpius said to himself as he kept on scratching the animal in front of him. “Now, we should get going, if I’m not mistaken,” he added, slapping the jaguar’s rump playfully and then jumping out of reach of its lashing paw.

***

Following a jaguar through the forest was not like any kind of trek Scorpius had ever been on. Unlike a person, the jaguar went more by instinct than anything else. Where Scorpius would have chosen the wider paths, the jaguar climbed over trees and squeezed through narrow spaces. Once they even had to swim through a slow-flowing river. The jaguar’s thick fur protected it from the leeches; Scorpius wasn’t that lucky. Uriel helped to get rid of them by an increased amount of pawing and licking. It made Scorpius wonder whether he would have been better off getting rid of them himself, because being helped by Uriel felt a bit like being helped by an overenthusiastic sandstorm.

The only constant in their trek was their climb uphill and the never-ending sounds of the forest around them. Scorpius had no idea where they were headed and, except for downhill, he wouldn’t even know where to turn if he decided to abandon this quest. He realised that Uriel’s constant search for any kind of contact was nothing more than a quest for sensations. Uriel walked back to him often, sometimes pushing him forward and sometimes brushing along his legs, almost pushing him into the underbrush in his enthusiasm. Scorpius indulged him by scratching him behind the ears and patting his back as often as he could. Centuries of not having a physical form must have left Uriel with a barely satiable desire for touch.

On their journey, they passed many cenotes in different stages of exposure. Scorpius was careful to avoid the revealed caves below, lest the remaining rock cover of the sinkholes give way under their combined weight. He couldn’t help himself though and when Uriel stopped to chase and eat a lizard, Scorpius crawled on his belly up to the rim of one uncovered sinkhole and looked down. The water was very clear and had a jade sheen to it. The walls on either side reached down dozens of metres. Scorpius could make out the shape of a sunken canoe or boat below; it was anyone’s guess how it had ended up there. The coughing call of Uriel, who appeared to have discovered his form’s vocal chords, drew his attention away from the cenote and Scorpius returned to his side.

The day was drawing to a close by the time the trees around them began to grow smaller and Scorpius could make out the sky rather than just the sunlight where it filtered through the thick canopy of leaves. The bird noises that had accompanied them for most of the way became fewer and fewer and eventually vanished completely. Uriel’s and Scorpius’ steps became the only sounds, making the forest seem eerie. Fog began to descend from the higher trees and then collect around their feet, making it hard to see the floor and the dangers that might lurk beneath. Scorpius stumbled often filling the air with colourful curses.

As dusk fell their pace slowed. Anticipation rose in Scorpius; something was going to happen and soon. There hadn’t been any signs of civilisation for hours and he wondered where this mythical place he was supposed to go to could be. They rounded a corner and up ahead stood a carved stele. The carved slab of stone rose out of the ground at an angle. Scorpius stepped up to it and brushed aside the foliage and climbers that had tried to reclaim it. On the left and right of the stele were carved winged humanoid creatures that sheltered a group of other humanoid creatures, both winged and wingless, who all sat in a circle and talked. It took a bit of digging with his fingers, leaving the crescent-shaped rim of his nails black with dirt, but another minute of scratching revealed writing unlike anything he had ever seen before. Scorpius already knew without trying that his translation tool wouldn’t work on this, much like it hadn’t on some lines on the scrolls.

Scorpius followed the lines of text and figures upwards with his eyes and brushed the last of the foliage from the top of the stele, rising on tiptoes to reach that high. What was revealed was a face that, much like the giant warrior head he had seen in the forest, was a mixture of jaguar and human features. This time, however, it didn’t look as intimidating as it had in the forest at night. It looked benevolent, as if it approved of the events taking place below.

Uriel nudged Scorpius in the hip and he turned around to face the jaguar. The animal was glowing and it wasn’t the last of the golden rays of sunlight that were responsible. Scorpius could see the jaguar shift and change, the feline form for a moment superimposed by that of a winged human. And then the jaguar was gone. In its place stood a large angel and finally Scorpius realised how fitting his name really was.

“You really are Uriel, aren’t you? The angel I mean,” he whispered, awed by his own realisation.

 _Yes and no_ , Uriel replied inside Scorpius’ mind. It was a strange sensation, different, but then not, from the way the voice had spoken to him. Different in that it felt less invasive and more like it was a feather-light touch on the forefront of his mind, like the words had simply skipped his ears and appeared in his consciousness, understanding immediate.

“How do you mean?” Scorpius probably could have thought those words and Uriel would have understood, but he felt better speaking freely.

_Yes, you could._

Scorpius didn’t know how, but he could _hear_ the smile in Uriel’s voice.

 _Only, I chose not to penetrate your mind deeply enough to read your thoughts. You’ve not learnt to shield yourself from this mode of communication and I chose to give you some measure of privacy._ Uriel paused as if to take a breath, which was odd, considering he wasn’t using any air to speak. _But to return to your original question, I’m not Uriel the angel, because I was there before your people even thought of him. So, in a way, I am him, but more in that I served as the model your people chose to craft him on and not that I am actually an angel. My kind walked this earth long before your kind was born, Scorpius. Some people refer to us as culture bringers and I suppose that kind of influence leaves an impression._

“I think I understand. Winged humanoid shapes play important roles in so many civilisations… you’re not saying that all of those…” Scorpius gasped.

 _Not all of them, no. I would tell you all, but we’re running out of time. This is where I leave you._ Uriel sounded sad.

“Oh. I thought you would be my guide till the end.” Scorpius felt disappointment wash over him. As much as he would deny it openly, he had quite enjoyed the company of this strange man.

 _I will be, only this next leg of the journey you will have to go alone. I cannot enter by the way you can and you cannot enter by my way. I will see you when you are inside._

“Alright, where do I have to go?” Scorpius asked resigned to his fate.

Uriel pointed onwards and past the stele, further up the hill. The last of the light faded as Scorpius followed Uriel’s finger with his eyes. As the sun set and darkness fell, the dark sky revealing millions of stars, Uriel began to fade.

_Farewell._

A gust of wind brushed past Scorpius, rustling the leaves on all sides, and when he looked for Uriel again, he was gone. There was nothing for it. He had to move on. Determined he made his way further up the hill.

***

It didn’t take Scorpius long to find what he was looking for. He still hadn’t reached the top of the hill, but in front of him was another cenote. A bridge spanned the entire length of it, but somehow he knew that this was not the way he should go. Scorpius stepped up to the edge and stared down at the sheer drop in front of him. It must have easily been forty metres. The familiar urge to jump that one got on high-rise buildings and mountain tops made his skin crawl. There was a part of him that wanted to take that leap, that single step. He could feel the ground of the cenote calling for him and it would be so easy. The limestone walls of the cenote would rush past him; he would feel the air brush by his face, like the wind did when he was flying his glider or broom, and then there would be nothing else. For the first time in his life Scorpius was truly tempted.

_Are you going to stand here all day and admire the scenery or are you trying to get into that blasted temple?_

“Oh, it’s you. How nice. I thought you’d left,” Scorpius said, secretly glad the voice, as annoying as it was, was there to distract him.

_Oh dear lord, this is so hilarious I’m dying. Oh wait, I’m already dead you asshat._

Scorpius was beginning to regret trying to teach the voice some more contemporary words during one of his drunken escapades.

“Why are you even here if you hate this so much?”

_Ha-bloody-ha, still with the funny. Ate a clown for breakfast, did you? Because I bloody well can’t leave until I’ve sorted out my unresolved business, that’s why._

“I’ve got to admit that I’m somewhat relieved that annoying me to death isn’t your purpose,” Scorpius said dryly. “Now shut up while I try to figure out where to go next.”

_It’s not the bridge._

“I know. Now, for once, listen to me and shut up. Please!” Scorpius could just about hear the voice huff and pout, but he didn’t care. As long as it left him time to think, all was well.

The cenote was a perfect circle and from what he could make out in the fading light, there was a small ledge just above the water’s rim. There was no entryway to a temple anywhere in the sheer limestone face, but he could see something glow beneath the surface of the water, turning it into a pool of liquid jade. Despite the urgency of the situation, the scene was too beautiful to not linger a moment and appreciate it.

Scorpius’ next thought was on how to reach the ledge. It was impossible to climb down the walls of the cenote, they were far too steep and the chances of him breaking his neck after he fell were too high. Scorpius searched through his pockets trying to find something that would be of use. He smiled with satisfaction when his hand closed around a familiar velvet pouch. Scorpius pulled out his hang glider and it immediately became its actual size. It only took a moment to put on his modified gloves and locate the Gillyweed pastilles. The gloves were keyed to many of his inventions. Scorpius strapped himself into his glider, took a step back and then let himself drop into the abyss in front of him.

Scorpius spread the fingers of both his hands and intuitively the kite-like glider spread its magical scaffolding slowing his descent and making it far easier to navigate. The ledge still came up a touch too fast and it was only because of sheer luck that the glider didn’t overbalance him. A single touch with the velvet pouch and the glider was unstrapped and resized to fit inside its container again.

Scorpius crouched down staring into the water, trying to make out anything he needed to be careful of when lowering himself down. Even though he was much closer than before, the only thing he could make out was the eerie glow of the light coming from below. He didn’t have a choice, he had to risk it.

Making sure he had his Gillyweed pastilles within reach, Scorpius lowered himself down, holding on to the ledge and then letting himself drop the last metre. The water was warm and comfortable against his skin, washing off the grime and sweat of the last few days. Scorpius immediately felt better. He put on his aviator goggles, which also worked underwater, took a deep breath and dove down to see where the glow came from. Scorpius was well aware of the danger of taking the pastilles too early and running out of them before he reached his destination. Uriel hadn’t said how far it would be, only that he would be waiting for him on the other side.

The jade-green glow came from a small alcove that was just wide enough for him to slip through. The alcove was clearly artificial in origin and Scorpius knew that he was on the right path. The cenotes they had seen and what he had perceived as a hill was nothing but the outer side of a giant meteor crater. Albus had once told him about that. What a strange moment to remember. For a minute Scorpius worried that the light might be a sign of radioactivity. It was close to a meteor crater after all and it wasn’t like Scorpius had had anything but bad luck lately.

Upon closer inspection, the light appeared to come from a coat of algae that covered the alcove and the walls of the tunnel beyond. It would be just enough to see by. Scorpius didn’t get to see more, because his air was quickly running out. A few strong kicks were all it took to catapult him back to the surface.

Night had fallen completely outside and above him twinkled hundreds of stars. Their reflections danced on the fragmented surface of the water around him. He felt as if he was floating in space, suspended between earth and the heavens above.

“Cygnus,” he breathed as he recognised the constellation he hadn’t thought about in years, before Uriel had shown him the memory.

Time was running out quickly. Scorpius popped the Gillyweed pastilles into his mouth and washed them down with a handful of the fresh water he was swimming in. It tasted divine and he remembered that the Maya had used cenotes to supply water to their cities. The skin of his neck rippled and gills began to grow, flapping uselessly in the dry air. Scorpius took one last look around, took a deep breath out of habit, and dove down towards the green glow.

***

Scorpius hadn’t expected the green light that illuminated the tunnels and caves beyond the alcove would be so hard to see by. Distances were almost impossible to predict and more than once it was only his reflexes that saved him from painfully colliding with a suddenly protruding rock spire.

Diving through this network of caves was also fascinating; the walls were covered in fossils from all eras. Scorpius could have sworn some of them were hippocampi even though he knew the creatures were mythical. Some caves were entirely filled with gems and crystals, their facets refracting the light from the algae and turning it into endless waterfalls of rainbows.

The further he went along the larger the tunnels became, some of them even opening up into wide open spaces. Scorpius resurfaced often to take in his surroundings, but knew he still hadn’t reached the end of his journey. Despite their beauty, none of them showed any signs of habitation, human or otherwise.

One of those caves had more than one exit and without the voice’s interference Scorpius probably would have taken the wrong one and wasted precious time exploring tunnels’ dead-ends. Trusting the voice’s judgement, Scorpius dove down again. The deeper layers had a stronger current than what he had encountered so far. There was a difference in temperature between the two currents and the water filtering through his gills was now salty sea water. Somehow these caves were connected to the open sea. _Interesting_ , he thought.

His gills were having a harder time filtering the oxygen out of the water and it wasn’t long before he would have to take another pastille. Scorpius was reluctant to take any more than he already had because, as it stood, there were hardly enough left to ensure he got out again without drowning.

Scorpius paused. His trouser leg had caught on something. He was going to have to free it; it was too risky tearing his only pair for the trek back. Turning back to untangle whatever it was, he saw that his trousers had got caught on one of the protruding ribs of an overturned sea serpent skeleton. It was easily the size of a full grown elephant. If those creatures were able to find their way in here, who knew what else was lurking in the shadows. He had to hurry.

He increased the pace of his strokes and kicks, squeezing through narrow spaces and putting as much distance as possible between himself and the dead creature. He tried to push the memory of the sea serpent and other dangerous sea-dwelling creatures to the back of his mind. At least the larger specimens wouldn’t be able to follow him.

Every stroke was costing him more energy as the Gillyweed’s effect decreased with every minute that passed. The adrenalin that was pumped through his body consumed the oxygen faster than it could be filtered out of the water. He had to find a place to surface and rest very soon.

_Almost there. Waited so long._

For the first time, Scorpius thought the voice had let something slip that it hadn’t meant to say out loud. It gave him the courage to try even harder and there, right in front of him, a pale blue light shone through the jade-green all around him. His lungs began to burn and he was desperate to take a breath of air. It took three more kicks. Scorpius broke through the surface, gasping and coughing. When the black and white spots stopped dancing in front of his eyes he swam towards the shore. Pulling himself up onto the rock was more exhausting than he liked. Scorpius lay there panting, just waiting for his racing heartbeat to slow down.

_Yes, I’m here. Now quickly, let’s move along._

“No,” Scorpius whispered. “I- I need to rest.”

_What do you mean rest? We need to go. We need to go now!_

Scorpius ignored the voice and closed his eyes. He was too tired to move. Just a moment of peace and quiet and he would be ready to move on. He didn’t know how long he slept for, but when he eventually woke up, he was sore all over. Sleeping on solid rock in drenched clothes definitely wasn’t the most comfortable sleeping position there was. The light in the room began to pulse and grow brighter as the feeling slowly returned to his limbs, every one of them sounding off with another wave of pain.

The room began to spin as he sat up too quickly. He felt nauseous. Pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes seemed to help for a minute. This felt like the worst hangover in the history of hangovers, but what could have caused this. Scorpius had never had an adverse reaction to Gillyweed pastilles in the past. He couldn’t explain what was happening and the headache pounding away making him wish he was dead wasn’t helping either.

“Fuck!”

 _Finally awake, are you?_ the voice asked. Was it just him or had it become stronger and more real?

When his headache became only a dull thumping at the back of his head that he could mostly ignore, he opened his eyes again and looked around. He was in a cave; the ceiling was high above, its entire weight apparently held by the walls around him and a single pillar in the very centre of the room. The walls and floor were covered in the same writing he had seen on the stele outside and every single character was glowing in a faint, blue light.

The pillar appeared to be the major source of light and if it hadn’t been impossible, Scorpius would have sworn that the light was pulsing in the rhythm of his own heartbeat. Shakily he got to his feet, using the wall to support himself. The water was clear and brightly illuminated. The same writing that was everywhere in the cave continued along the pillar underwater. Scorpius was slowly turning, his surroundings filling him with a sense of awe.

“What is this place?” he asked.

“That I cannot tell you,” the voice replied and this time it had definitely spoken out loud.

Scorpius was just about to make a scathing remark in reply, but at that very moment his gaze fell on his handhold and he stumbled back in terror. Only his frantically cart-wheeling arms saved him from falling backwards into the water.

Right beside him was the giant grotesque snout of a winged serpent. Its maw was open and large enough to swallow a whole centaur. Vicious teeth guarded it on both sides and a long, forked tongue covered the floor to the water’s edge. Quetzalcoatl was the name given to this creature by the Aztecs, Albus’ voice supplied helpfully.

“I’m going mad.”

“Possibly,” the voice supplied as helpfully as always. “Now stop moping about, we’ve got to get moving.”

“Moving to where? I can’t dive any further. There’s barely enough Gillyweed left for the way back!” Scorpius said. Even after his nap, he was so exhausted he probably wouldn’t make it anyway.

“Through the gateway.”

“What gateway?” he asked, dreading the answer. Beside him an apparition appeared. It was much like Uriel, only it was wingless.

“That gateway,” the apparition said and pointed at the wide open maw of Quetzalcoatl. Scorpius shivered.

“You can’t be serious.” Scorpius carefully approached the sculpture, wary of any enchantments that might turn out to be dangerous. “There isn’t even a way inside.”

The voice huffed, then spoke up again. “You have to open it, of course.”

“How? How do I bloody well open a giant slab of stone that probably weighs tons with my bare hands? Because, in case you’ve forgotten, I cannot use magic in this blasted place!” Scorpius was getting annoyed.

“Humans!” The voice said as if it was an insult. “You and your narrow minds. You need to prove that you belong here, that you’re allowed to enter. A kind of proof of identity, if you will.”

“Well, oh smart one, how do I do that?” Scorpius asked. The voice was having far too much fun bossing him around. Scorpius could almost hear it gnash its immaterial teeth at his obstructive behaviour and grinned. If he was getting angry, someone else bloody well should as well, especially that smart-mouthed bother.

“Are you really this stupid or do you just pretend to be? The simplest way, of course. With blood. The gene that’s needed to identify you has been passed down through generations. That's the easiest way to make sure that, even after all this time, you’ll be able to enter this place in time of need.”

Scorpius only stared.

“What you need to do is take a knife - and don’t give me that look, I know you brought one. You’ve got to prick your finger and let some of the blood fall onto Quetzalcoatl’s tongue and the door will open.”

“Are you sure?” Scorpius asked to wind up the voice some more.

“Am I sure, he asks, bloody insolent fool,” the voice ranted under its breath, while Scorpius flicked open his butterfly knife with a graceful movement of the wrist. The voice continued to rant about how it would have had him put on the rack or put to death by being devoured by leeches or watching him slowly die of sea urchin poison, if he still had the power.

Scorpius’ blood hit the tongue. Nothing seemed to happen at first but then a groaning sound like thunder could be heard. The grinding of stone moving against stone grew louder and rock dust began to fall from the ceiling and Quetzalcoatl’s upper jaw. At the back where his throat would be, a slab of stone was shifting and pulled upwards revealing a triangular doorway.

Without another glance, Scorpius stepped forward and into the dark corridor beyond.

***

The walls and ceiling began to glow in the same pale, blue light that had illuminated the cavern. Instead of writing, the walls were covered in images of feathers and wings. Scorpius walked steadily, every step more tiring than it ought to be. The apparition the voice had become was walking behind him and whenever Scorpius glanced back it looked ever more solid. Except for its face; that had seemed like a pale mask right from the beginning.

A doorway on his left drew his attention. Scorpius took a closer look, but couldn’t step into the room beyond because the ceiling had collapsed completely. He followed the corridor, finding more and more destroyed and collapsed rooms and began to wonder where he was headed. The apparition had gone strangely quiet and it made Scorpius’ skin crawl.

Eventually they reached a stone portal, its two giant doors seemingly locked. Scorpius tried everything he could think of to open it. This couldn’t be a dead end; none of the other rooms had led anywhere, so that would make no sense at all.

“Shit!”

“What?”

“I don’t think I can open this.”

 _Scorpius, why are you here?_ Uriel’s voice was gentle at the front of his mind.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. 

“What are you talking about?” the voice chided. “Of course you know how, you must know!”

_You’re here to save your father, to retrieve the skull. Remember why you came._

“But I truly don’t know what to do. I’ve tried everything. This is usually Albus’ forte.”

“Stupid! Why did I choose someone so stupid? Beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose…” Scorpius tuned out the voice’s ramblings and concentrated on Uriel.

“I came, because I needed something to do. Because I was losing hope,” Scorpius said quietly.

“What are you on about?” the voice asked, but Scorpius continued to ignore it.

“I hoped to find something, anything, that would make it all worthwhile. And I think I have.” _Albus_.

_See? You do know why you’re here. Keep thinking about him. It’s only one more step and you’ll get where you need to be._

“But how?”

“He’s gone mental!” The apparition beside him shook its head.

_Look at the door. What do you see?_

“I see wings and feathers and on the side there’s something that’s probably a keypad of some kind.” Scorpius understood something. “Do I have to enter some kind of combination?”

_Yes._

“But what is it?”

The voice was steadily ignoring him and shaking its head, rambling about how he would end Scorpius’ existence if he could.

_The number of the ward should be on the door. That’s the number you need._

“How do I get that? There are only engravings on the door.”

_Don’t count the feathers, just count the wings. That should be it. Then enter the number of wings on the right door first and then the ones on the second._

Scorpius did as he was told, hesitating a moment over the nine block keypad, unsure of what to do. The numbers, or whatever had passed as numbers when this 'ward' as Uriel had called it was built, had been worn off by age. He decided to treat it like he would any other nine-button keypad and punched in the numbers. The doors in front of him immediately swung open without a sound.

The walls of the room beyond were lined with basins that were filled with eternal flames. Bearing those basins were statues of angels and other winged creatures, some of which Scorpius had never before seen and others, like the Sumerian Lamassu, he simply hadn’t expected to see alongside the others. Beside each statue stood an angel, its face turned towards Scorpius. The voice and its constant complaints completely forgotten, Scorpius walked past this guard of honour towards Uriel, who stood beside a pedestal and was smiling benevolently at him.

_I knew you would make it._

Scorpius nodded his head in recognition, but quickly found his attention riveted by what was displayed on the pedestal. A perfect likeness of a human head. A crystal skull that seemed to glow with an inner light.

“Is that…?”

_Yes._

“May I?”

_Of course._

Scorpius’ hands trembled and his heart raced as he stepped past Uriel’s inviting gesture. This was it. This was what would help cure his father and make everything alright. All he needed to do was take the skull and bring it back home. And he had got permission to do so; nothing was standing in his way. He reached for the skull, meaning to trace its brow to feel the smooth crystal beneath his finger, not trying to be disrespectful.

The moment his fingers connected with the skull in front of him, a magical charge so strong rushed through him that he was pushed back several feet and fell to the floor. His body was alight with pain, but even though his mouth was open, no sound was coming out. Inside his chest, his heart was hammering away erratically. Scorpius was terrified, unable to even move his eyes to see what was going on.

The paralytic effect of touching the skull didn’t wear off. Uriel rushed over to him, or glided. Scorpius couldn’t know, couldn’t speak or even blink. Tears ran down the sides of his face; he had never been so scared in his entire life.

 _What happened? What’s going on? Help me, somebody please! I’m scared._ The words rushed through Scorpius conscious mind. He was desperately hoping that Uriel would pick up on it, would help him in some way. It was very likely that he was the only one who could.

Uriel knelt beside him. Unable to affect matter, he couldn’t put Scorpius into a more comfortable position or even turn him on his side. The only thing he could do was comfort him.

 _Scorpius, are you alright? I don’t know what went wrong, this shouldn’t have happened. You should have been able to pick up the skulls, like you were meant to. Something must have triggered the skull’s defensive spells. I’ll try my best…_ Uriel sounded flustered, even inside Scorpius’ mind. 

_But can you help me? I can’t move and I’m in pain_. More tears welled in Scorpius’ eyes. He wished Albus was here, he would know what to do. He always did. Scorpius felt something brush against his mind, lightly brushing against the barriers; it was an oddly familiar sensation, like when they had been inside his memory. 

_I don’t know, Scorpius, I’m sorry. Would you allow me to look into your mind? There’s one thing that might explain this volatile reaction, if you let me see…_

_Do it!_ Scorpius interrupted. Words could only do so much to calm him down and he hoped Uriel would find some way to help.

The tendrils of Uriel’s mind wound through Scorpius’ conscious thoughts and pushed back further. Images rose up before his inner eye, the city in the Himalayas among them.

 _No! No, he wouldn’t dare! It can’t be!_ Uriel sounded shocked.

Scorpius was truly worried. The image of the shrine from where they had taken the scrolls was still vivid in his mind as Uriel pushed it back. The jelly-fish like creatures floated through the hemisphere of his vision and suddenly Scorpius was overcome with a sense of sadness and loss that he knew was not his own. If he could, he would have reached out and taken hold of Uriel’s hand, no matter that his hand would have passed right through Uriel’s. He tried to convey as much to the presence in his mind and felt Uriel’s sorrow lessen slightly.

 _I never thought he would be able to bear the consequences of doing that. It explains so much. How can any being allow that to happen? The war was long over; why would he do that?_ Uriel fell silent and Scorpius knew that the huddled form beside him quietly wept, unable to express its grief in any other fashion, and his heart ached for Uriel.

Something big and terrible must have happened in the past, something he couldn’t begin to understand. He could feel Uriel’s consciousness retreating from his own, but knew it wasn’t the right time.

 _No, Uriel!_ he shouted in the space of his mind. _Don’t leave!_

Uriel probably only wanted to keep him from feeling his sorrow, which endeared him even further to Scorpius. A being that would rather pull away than let another being suffer with it was unable to inflict harm on anything or anyone. Scorpius felt nothing but compassion for him, but he needed to know, needed to be able to move, and if they had to work through Uriel’s grief to get there, he was willing.

_I can’t bear it. So many lives lost and for what? Revenge?_

_Tell me_. Scorpius’ thoughts were gentle this time.

 _I can’t, Scorpius. It would destroy me._ Uriel’s defeated tone broke Scorpius’ heart. He had to help him.

_Can you show me then? Is that easier?_

There was no reply, but images of the floating creatures appeared in front of his eyes. He suddenly knew that they were not of natural origin. Someone had made them. The original maker’s intention hadn’t been malicious. Scorpius could feel pride and joy at a job well done and at the same time knew it was a shared joy. More and more images flickered past and his mind was filled with a knowledge that wasn’t his own.

The culture bringers had set it as one of their goals to reanimate and repopulate extinct species; what they hadn’t taken into account was that some of them were far more dangerous than anyone could have suspected. After some of them had spread their knowledge among the humans living on the main continents, war had broken out and some creatures, like the jelly-fish, had been abused as weapons. The knowledge of what had happened in the ruins of the cavern city was sketchy, but it was enough to let Scorpius realise that someone had brought those creatures and let them loose. They had procreated quickly and devoured almost everyone in the city in one night. At the time the city must have been one of the last strongholds of the mainland-dwelling Veelas.

Uriel was devastated; he had been one of the scientists who had brought back the jellyfish and he and his brother had supervised the experiments until Uriel had left.

 _He was your brother? I’m so sorry._ Scorpius was at a loss for further words.

_Yes, and it’s my fault. Levia would never have done it if he hadn’t been so angry with me. He used them to punish me and I never knew. It’s all my fault, I left him behind. I couldn’t save him, I couldn’t save any of them._

Scorpius gave Uriel time to collect himself before prompting him about the skull and its reaction again.

Uriel visibly straightened beside him and began to card through Scorpius’ mind anew.

 _Oh no. No, no, no!_ Uriel exclaimed. _Not you. He can’t have done that too._

Scorpius had no idea what he was talking about, but never got a chance to ask. Uriel got up and walked away, probably to confer with the others in the chamber who streamed past his field of vision only to vanish completely. It was hard to keep the fear at bay.

A snicker sounded close to Scorpius ear; he couldn’t see who it was. A terrifying suspicion rose inside of him. _Levia_ , he thought.

“Yes, it’s me! Who else would it be?”

Scorpius tried to call out inside his mind to Uriel, but something was blocking him and he knew he wasn’t getting through.

 _What do you want from me?_ he asked, unable to keep the terror out of his mind.

“There is but one thing I require you to do.” Levia’s voice was cold and devoid of any emotion. “Die.”

_But why? What did I ever do to you?_

“You and your kind are vermin. You’re an abomination and you don’t deserve to live, don’t deserve the knowledge or the kinship that you have acquired. You deserve to perish in hopelessness and despair. My brother has given you information, has allowed you to take control of your own destiny, but no more. You don’t deserve this knowledge and you besmirch our kind by your mere existence. I’ll take it from you. Go ahead and scream, if you like, it’ll only make this more fun for me.”

Levia penetrated his mind, brushing Scorpius' defences aside like they were bothersome flies. It hurt. Scorpius tried not to scream. Uriel couldn’t hear him anyway, and he wouldn’t give Levia the satisfaction. His resolution didn’t last long. Scorpius felt like he was suspended in limbo and if he had been able to scream out loud as pain tore through him like bolts of lightning, Scorpius’ throat would have been raw.

He could feel himself slipping away; darkness encroached on his field of vision. The last thing he saw was a bright light from where Uriel had vanished to. A jaguar jumped across him, hitting something solid, and suddenly the paralysis was gone but not the pain. It had all been too much and when unconsciousness embraced him, he welcomed it.

***

Wakefulness came slowly to Scorpius. He was sore all over and there was a kind of sticky warmth spread all over his chest. His eyelids wouldn’t cooperate right away, but when they did the glaring light hurt his retinas. Upon closer inspection the warm stuff covering his chest was blood. A moment of panic was followed by relief as he realised it was not his own. Some metres from where he lay, he could make out two dark shapes in the corner.

Scorpius had no idea where he was, but if one of those people had lost all this blood they were in serious need of medical attention. He headed over to them quickly, already digging through his pockets for his shrunken first aid kit.

What he saw, once he got close enough, made him stumble backwards in fear. There was a huge jaguar sitting on the chest of a beautiful man, who was quite obviously beyond any help. The jaguar slowly rose and limped towards Scorpius.

“No, stay away!” he shouted, even though he knew the animal wouldn’t understand him. It stopped in its tracks, looking sad somehow. A gargling growl came from its chest and it took Scorpius’ panicked mind a moment to catch up and realise that the feline was, in fact, purring.

The jaguar was wounded; deep gashes in its side oozed blood and its legs were already trembling under its weight. An injured animal was dangerous, he knew, but something told him that he had nothing to fear from the large cat in front of him.

He could feel his heart pounding away inside his chest as he slowly approached the jaguar. The purring grew in volume and then the cat collapsed, trying and failing to get up again. Within moments Scorpius was at its side, brushing aside the sticky fur and pressing fabric against the gashes in its side to stem the blood flow.

The jaguar licked his hand and Scorpius stroked its head. The poor creature was beyond saving, he knew, and he decided to make its last moments as comfortable as possible. He sat down cross-legged and cushioned the heavy skull on his leg, stroking and petting any part of the jaguar that was within his reach and uninjured. 

Its eyes were a strange colour and seemed almost human as it looked up at him, lifting its head for what was going to be the last time. Something stirred at the back of his mind, the echo of a name: Uriel. But he didn’t know what it meant.

One last heaving breath and gargling purr and the jaguar’s eyes closed, its head dropping into Scorpius lap. Tears were streaming down his face and he didn’t understand why he felt as if he had just lost a friend that he had never known.

Scorpius sat on the floor for a long time, petting the fur of the jaguar in front of him, long after it had begun to grow cold. Things seemed to have gone terribly wrong and he had no idea how to fix them, or even how they had failed.

Eventually he looked around himself and spotted the crystal skull on the other side of the room. It was prominently displayed, like a trophy or icon of worship. Scorpius stroked the soft fur one last time before he rose and approached the artefact he had come here to collect.

Scorpius should just take it and go back home. He would cure his father and then he would invent a magical dampening field for his motorcycle so it worked everywhere, even in magical hotspots, not that he had any inclination to go looking for one in the near future.

The crystal was smooth and oddly enough warm beneath his fingers. Scorpius wrapped both hands around it, expecting it to be heavy. The skull grew warmer and brighter beneath his fingers and still he tried to pick it up. As the skull left the pedestal, the ground opened up beneath him and Scorpius was overcome with the sickening sensation of falling. The skull was clutched to his chest even as he was engulfed by a viscous jade-coloured liquid.

And then, there was nothing.

~.o.O.0.O.o.~

**Albus Severus Potter - Present Day**

It is definitely a giraffe he decides, before sitting up in the chair again. This time he managed to smuggle his wand into the room, but every single one of the chairs he has tried has so far resisted his cushioning and transfiguration attempts. The cling and slide welcomes him back, like a dear old friend. Albus resigns himself to his fate, the uncertainty and restlessness already too familiar, still bothering him, but at least this time he has learnt to accept that there is nothing he can do to alleviate his own discomfort.

Scorpius is sitting across the room from him, pretending to read. He is most likely staring into space, hiding himself from Albus’ sight and only Merlin knows why. They can only wait, wait for time to tell whether it worked.

***

When they had reached St Mungo’s earlier, everything had been ready, and they had been rushed right along into Draco’s room. The nurses had prepared everything according to Albus’ specifications. Beside Draco’s bed was a reclining chair; Albus told Harry to take a seat and lie back. When his father complied, he immediately cast a series of monitoring charms over him to check blood pressure, magical core flow and heart rate. According to their colours, Albus’ father was clearly agitated, but not enough to endanger the intended transfer.

“It’s alright, Dad. You’re doing great!” he had said and Harry had seemed to calm down somewhat.

After that he had performed the same series of spells on Draco; their results had him worried, because Draco was holding on by a thread. Following this, Albus cast a series of intricate spells, precise wand movement after another, weaving a magical thread between Draco’s heart and Harry’s. The colourful translucent thread grew ever stronger and began to pulse slowly in time with their heartbeats. Albus had woven a time-delay element into the spells. Which meant they had to hurry.

“Scorpius, come over here,” Albus ordered. Scorpius had been standing at his father’s bedside wringing his hands and probably going slowly insane because he was unable to help. He came over without complaint.

“There are two blue phials in my bag. Get them out and unstopper them, please.” Albus still held his wand over the highest part of the arch between his father and Draco. Scorpius made to hand him both of the phials, but Albus only shook his head.

“Hand one to my dad; he can take the potion himself. I’ll need you to administer the potion to Draco. Do you know how?”

Scorpius nodded and did as he was told.

“Right, ready? On three. Dad, are you with me?” 

Harry inclined his head, panic flickering in his eyes, but ever the hero, he wouldn’t back down from the challenge to save someone. 

“Now, before we do this, whatever happens, I need you to stay until the very end, Dad. It’ll most likely be uncomfortable, but you cannot for any reason break the connection. Do you understand?” Another nod. “Alright.” Albus counted to three and while Harry swallowed the potion down voluntarily with a single gulp, Draco was forced to, by magic.

The connection between the two started to thrum and twist as if it were alive. _So far, so good_ , he had thought. One more thing was left to do to complete the treatment. Albus took out a small box that clicked and whirred; two long, slim tubes slowly snaked out the opposite ends. Albus carefully placed it on the nightstand and then laid both Draco’s and Harry’s arms on the armrest of the reclining chair, strapping them together with a strong strip of leather.

“Whatever happens, you cannot remove these. If this works, they‘ll retract on their own,” Albus said and Harry looked really scared for the first time. “You can close your eyes if that makes it easier.”

“No, I just - I never did too well with needles.”

“You won’t have to worry about needles, but I’m not sure it’ll be any more pleasant.”

Albus tapped the box with his wand and the tubes slithered around like living things, sliding up Harry’s and Draco’s arms, winding around them, their ends emitting small sucking noises. Up close they would resemble lampreys even down to the small teeth they sported. Albus could see Harry’s skin break out into goosebumps just before the tiny ends of the tubes jumped and buried themselves in crook of Draco’s and Harry’s arms, providing the physical blood connection required for the treatment to work.

Finally, Albus released the magical thread and its effect was almost immediate. Harry threw his head back and his entire body began convulsing so intensely they had to strap him down after all. Harry was shivering and beads of sweat covered his forehead. Suddenly overcome by a wave of tenderness towards his father, Albus conjured a wet cloth and dabbed at his father’s forehead until the convulsions ceased and his breathing returned to something resembling normal.

“Bloody hell!” Harry said shakily. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell you, Dad. It should be easier to endure now.”

Harry smiled at that and Albus knew that if they were alone, Harry would have cracked a Slytherin-related joke.

“I don’t know how long this’ll take; it’s alright if you doze off, it might be a while. We’ll be in the waiting room. Send someone to get me, if you feel uncomfortable or if Draco wakes up,” Albus said, while unstrapping Harry from the reclining chair.

“Okay.”

***

Albus casts a _Tempus_ ; it has been four hours since they started the procedure. The one time he has been in to check, some colour had returned to Draco’s cheeks and his own father had been fast asleep. Albus is cautiously confident that the procedure will work and, if it does, it will not only save Draco’s life, but also return Harry’s magical core to normal. He imagines the fringe benefits might also not be something to frown upon, but he hasn’t told his father about them and he barely feels guilty about that omission. Harry will find out in his own time, Albus reckons. After all, Harry deserves a bit of happiness.

Even though his own life seems to be falling to pieces, Albus can still be happy for what lies in store for his father. He had been convinced that things between him and Scorpius were now settled, that everything was fixed, but he seems to have been wrong about this. Scorpius has barely spoken to him, his body language easily communicating his desire to be left alone. Albus has given up; he will pack his things, leave his home and life behind and find somewhere to begin anew. He has to let go of what he so obviously cannot have, despite what it had seemed like.

“Already planning your new life, huh?” Scorpius suddenly says into the quiet, startling Albus out of his reverie.

“Yes. It’s not like I have a choice, is it?”

“Oh, you did have a choice, but you chose not to take it. Always looking for something better and never happy with what you had. I should’ve known!”

“What do you mean I had a choice? The choice to live in a place where I’m not wanted, where the only other occupant thinks it’s beneath him to talk to me? No thank you, that’s not a choice at all!” Albus can sense that the tension is about to crest and explode into the worst fight the two of them have ever had, but he is sick and tired of having to put up with Scorpius’ moods and in light of recent developments he realises he can actually speak his mind for once about every single thing. For this confrontation, the kid gloves are definitely off.

“Are you implying that I’ve been avoiding you? That it’s my fault things have been so strained?” Scorpius asks indignantly.

“Of course I am. You come home in the middle of the night drunk and high out of your mind and you make me clean up your mess. Then when you wake up the next day I don’t even get a thank you or any acknowledgement that I’m anything but your personal house elf.”

“Well, if you were, at least you’d be loyal!”

“Excuse me? What the fuck, Scorpius? I’m not the one who constantly brings strangers home to bed them. I’m always there to pick up the pieces when you’ve fucked up again. Hell, I even saved your life more than once and I’m disloyal? I don’t even know why I’ve stuck around as long as I did, when you belittle everything I am and everything I do.”

“Oh really, everything you do? You do everything for yourself, for your own self-gratification. Don’t for a moment think that I don’t know why you are being so generous with your time and talent where my father’s concerned. It’s obvious what you intend to gain from it. I’m disgusted by you. You’re nothing more than a gold digger and I regret ever inviting you into my house and calling you my friend.”

“Are you still on some paranoia potion, Scorpius? That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I thought we could figure things out after your father got better but I see that I was mistaken; maybe it’s for the best that I just leave after I’ve kept my promise to you and your father. Because, as shocking as this might seem, I keep my promises! And on top of everything, Scorpius, I’m sick of your fucking mind games, of the hot and cold behaviour. You can find some other human plaything to entertain you. I’m off the menu for good.”

“Well, who would want spoiled goods anyway? It’s not like you don’t sell yourself cheap. I bet you’d put out for anyone.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about? I most certainly wouldn’t and you know it!”

“Oh, really? So you wouldn’t put out for some random stranger who shows up in your room at night?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me! I thought you’d tell me! I thought we had an understanding, and instead you throw yourself at a stranger the first opportunity you get. How can I think of you as loyal, as better than any of the worst slags, if you break your promises so easily?”

“Scorpius, what the fuck are you even talking about? We never had an understanding. We’re not together, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. You said as much when we were in Iceland and you were talking to your father. If you’re really that ashamed and disgusted by me, why did you even agree to move in with me in the first place?”

“I don’t understand how you get off on calling me a cheater if there is no one I could be cheating on.”

This time Scorpius jumps up and interrupts Albus, pointing at him accusingly.

“We had an understanding and you still slept with him, Albus. Don’t deny it! I know everything!”

“Oh, really? Then whom have I been sleeping with, if you know everything? And frankly, why should it be any of your business?”

“Aquarius!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Scorpius, I knew it was you! I knew it the whole time! Why do you think I allowed it to happen? It’s not like you actually care for me, but for some reason I’ve been made to care for you. Some fluke. There was some weird Veela merging ritual we must have gone through and I feel for you. Just the once I thought you wanted it too and I couldn’t resist anymore. I thought… but that doesn’t matter now. It’s obvious that you don’t care for me any longer.”

Albus has grown quiet and sad and already regrets speaking without thinking.

“Albus!” Scorpius is right there in his face now and Albus wonders if Scorpius is about to hit him. But instead of hitting him, Scorpius grabs his shoulders, hard. “Are you really this stupid? You’ve read all the lore, you’ve done all the research and can it be that you missed the most important piece of information?”

All he wants to do is flee, but he feels pinned under Scorpius’ intense gaze.

“Let go of me!”

“No way, you idiot!” The way Scorpius says it makes it sound almost fond. Albus is confused, his anger having evaporated when he spilled his secret. His eyes dart around the room, looking for a way out, so he can go somewhere quiet and mourn his broken heart in peace. “What you don’t know, Al, is that a merging isn’t possible unless there’s already a strong emotional connection between the individuals. Whatever you’ve been telling yourself, it’s wrong! Everything you felt, everything you feel, is real!”

“Wha-…” But Scorpius won’t let him finish; he crowds him and with every step Albus takes backwards, he follows until the back of Albus’ knees connect with the seat of one of the cursed waiting room chairs. Albus loses his balance and slumps down into it. Scorpius immediately follows, sitting on his lap and straddling him, both long legs on either side of Albus’ hips. Albus tries to push him off, but Scorpius takes both of his wrists in one hand and pins them above his head. He struggles against the grip, but it is no use. When Scorpius has grown strong enough to do this to him is a mystery to Albus. 

Scorpius’ proximity takes Albus’ breath away; he knows resistance is useless. He can feel his heart racing as Scorpius leans closer, his warm breath brushing against Albus’ lips as he speaks.

“I’m tired of fighting you, Albus.” The kiss, when it comes, is just a soft brush of lips against lips, and even though anticipated it overwhelms Albus completely. “I’ve wanted you for a long time, but I always thought you only wanted to be friends.”

Albus tries to speak, but Scorpius puts his forefinger on Albus’ lips. “Shhhh. Let me do this for you, please? Just this once, when we’re both sober? When it’s obvious we both want it. I don’t know about you, but Merlin do I need it. The tension in this room is killing me!”

Instead of replying verbally, Albus flicks his tongue out against Scorpius’ forefinger. Scorpius hisses and pulls it away as if burned. He stares down at Albus and then, slowly but surely, a satisfied smile spreads over his handsome features. He must have realised that Albus isn’t mad at him anymore.

When Scorpius kisses him again, Albus feels like he is being devoured and he doesn’t mind one bit. Scorpius takes possession of his lips and his tongue, tasting of stale hospital coffee, sugar and something distinctively Scorpius. Albus moans into the kiss and somehow gets his arms free. He wraps them around Scorpius’ middle tightly, pulling him as close he can, while Scorpius buries his own hands in Albus’ hair.

Scorpius presses himself closer, as if he is trying to crawl inside Albus; and maybe, in a way, he is. It is what Albus wants - what he craves - to be with Scorpius when all pretences have fallen away. The mask has gone and it is only them, bared to the soul, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. The knot in his chest that he has carried for such a long time is already loosening and a broken, choking sound tumbles from his lips and is swallowed up by Scorpius’ kisses.

Scorpius pulls away suddenly, robbing Albus of the delicious feelings of Scorpius’ lips against his own.

“Don’t cry,” Scorpius says in a voice gentle and unlike anything Albus has ever heard. Only when Scorpius’ thumb finds his cheek and gently brushes away the wetness there does Albus realise that he is right. He immediately withdraws his hands from around Scorpius and tries to turn away, his face heating with a much less pleasant emotion. Humiliation. If he could, he would hide away inside himself. He prays for the earth to swallow him and his embarrassment up, or at least for Scorpius to leave him alone.

Scorpius will not be deterred; he ignores Albus’ ever more frantic attempts at freeing himself and cradles Albus’ face between his callused hands, tipping it upwards. Albus still refuses to meet Scorpius’ eyes.

“Hey. It’s okay,” Scorpius’ soothes. “Don’t be embarrassed.” The gentle motion of his thumb has never ceased. 

Eventually Albus looks up, feeling vulnerable and exposed. Scorpius is smiling, but there is no mirth in it; one might almost call the expression on his face 'smitten'. And then he is too close for Albus to examine properly, kissing Albus on his forehead, his cheeks, his chin, the tip of his nose and then both his eyelids, before finding his lips again. 

Albus’ heart is filled with warmth and joy, the mental connection between him and Scorpius is pulsing contentedly. Somehow Albus’ hands find their way beneath Scorpius’ crumpled shirt, his waistcoat already hanging open and he strokes and squeezes the smooth skin at Scorpius’ back. This only increases the fervour with which Scorpius devours Albus’ mouth, but he is not complaining. He never wants this moment to end.

Scorpius is writhing in his lap and it is not long until Albus notices a distinct hardness pressing against his own. He pushes up and rubs himself against it, moaning with each contact. Albus’ hands wander down to Scorpius’ arse and when he slides them into his trousers and pants, the increased pressure between them makes him moan helplessly. Their kisses become sloppy as their need for each other increases and before long they are frotting against each other desperately.

What a picture they must make for anyone who walks in, two grown men, sharing a single waiting room chair, their clothes askew and their intentions obvious. Albus couldn’t care less. If someone trained a wand at him at that precise moment, threatening his life, he still wouldn’t have been able to stop what he was doing.

They are both close, he can tell from the way the heat begins to pool in his belly and from how Scorpius is mostly licking his mouth instead of kissing him. Their rhythm becomes erratic and then falters when they both come in their pants almost simultaneously. 

Scorpius presses his damp forehead against Albus’, their laboured breathing the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. Albus rests his hand against Scorpius’ chest, spreading his fingers just above his heart, and feels both their heartbeats slowly return to normal. Seeing his own slightly darker hand splayed against the white of Scorpius’ skin fills him with a sense of awe that he cannot quite shake. Scorpius is his to touch; truly his. Even when Scorpius begins to chuckle at his strange expression and impulsively kisses his forehead and nose and then his lips, the magnitude of what just happened doesn’t sink in. It will probably be a long time until he gets used to this, if ever.

Scorpius seems to be unable to stop kissing him and just when the kiss turns heated and is clearly headed somewhere again, they hear footsteps in the corridor.

“Fuck!” Scorpius whispers against Albus’ lips.

“Get up, get up, get up!” Albus urges. He sees something flicker over Scorpius’ expression that he doesn’t like, but there is no time to deal with this now. Albus casts a quick spell over them that cleans them up and sets their clothes right. It doesn’t do anything for their flushed expressions, but at least those can be explained away.

They stand beside each other, facing the door and on instinct Albus takes hold of Scorpius’ hand and intertwines their fingers. The smile that lights Scorpius’ face shows that it’s the right decision.

The footsteps stop just outside of the waiting room and Albus can just make out a dark shade. The door flies open, revealing a flushed looking Harry and it is a miracle that the door doesn’t shatter against the wall.

Harry looks a fright; his hair is more messy than usual and his pupils are blown almost impossibly wide. He must have been running, because his chest is heaving with exertion, and Albus is about to scold him for it when he notices the puffy lips and the distinct redness around his mouth that can only come from being repeatedly exposed to someone else’s beard stubble. But that would mean… Albus can feel his eyes widen as understanding dawns. He draws in a sharp breath, just as Harry begins to speak.

“He’s awake! Albus, Draco’s awake!”

~ Fin ~


End file.
